Avada Kedavra
by ObsidianEmbrace
Summary: Voldemort is dead, but that doesn't mean Harry is free. A continuation of Imperio and the final story in the Unforgivables trilogy.
1. While We Watched

**Avada Kedavra**

by ObsidianEmbrace

_Story Notes: Final story in the _Unforgivables_ trilogy. Takes place immediately after the events of _Imperio_. As a reminder, Dumbledore, the Dursleys and various Order members are dead. Sirius has been exonerated and given custody of Harry. Voldemort is dead, brought down by Sirius' Killing Curse. It is 1996, late-July. Recognizable characters and settings belong to J.K. Rowling. Enjoy.  
_

_~HP~  
_

_**Part I: Dead, We Hide**  
_

**While we watched, a seething tide  
O'er our sinking vessel crossed;  
Out among the waters wide,  
Smiling still, we two were tossed;  
Tossed and drifted, overcome  
In a crowd of surges dread,  
Bruised and beaten, blind and dumb,  
So we sank among the dead.**

**(**_**Shipwrecked **_**b****y****Amanda Theodocia Jones****)**

~SB~

**Chapter 1: While We Watched**

_Avada Kedavra_.

It was a second heartbeat.

It cursed Harry over and over as he stared at the lifeless face of the wizard who had stalked him for the better part of his life.

_He's really dead_. It seemed simple enough, but the words fluttered away each time he tried to capture them. Even though Sirius was safe beside him, his grip fierce and real around Harry's shoulders. Snape was there too, just as alive.

And Remus, who kept trying not to stare at Harry with eyes that were too alert. Or maybe it was mistrust in the normally kind gaze.

But none of that mattered.

Sirius was alive and he was free. And now—_finally_, Sirius could stop hiding. Stop devoting every moment to making certain that Harry was safe.

They were both safe now.

Across from him, Remus' eyes narrowed and Harry realized he was grinning. And maybe the huge grin _was_ inappropriate but he couldn't care in the least. The last weeks had consumed them. With all things Voldemort and those damn streams that waited even now, still and silent, in the back of Harry's mind.

"Sweet Merlin…"

Harry twisted his neck at the low murmur.

Shacklebolt and Tonks were staring down at Voldemort, their mouths slack, their eyes wide. It was the most expression Harry had ever seen from the tall Auror.

Tonks' hair was shifting through a mélange of colours and when they settled, she wore a rainbow. "How...?"

Remus cleared his throat. "He's dead."

Shacklebolt raised a dark eyebrow but Remus only shrugged.

"What happened?" Shacklebolt asked as Tonks dropped to the grass to wave her wand over the body.

Beside Harry, Sirius cleared his throat. His voice was hoarse. "We didn't have time to discuss it with you… with anyone."

"Did he attack Harry?"

"Voldemort invaded his mind."

Harry blinked; his smile was whisked away. "He did?"

Everyone turned their attention to him. "You didn't know?" Tonks asked with her wand suspended over Voldemort's pale neck.

Harry shook his head. "I mean, I knew he was there at the very end… he was fighting with me but as soon as I saw Sirius' curse, I just threw it at him and—"

"Sirius' curse?"

"You _threw_ it at him?" Sirius' echoed, his grey eyes suddenly saucers.

"Explain that," Snape demanded. Harry glanced at Snape, found the same confusion.

"I could hear the Killing Curse," he explained, switching his gaze to Sirius. "It was echoing in the streams around Voldemort… I could just hear it, the words over and over..." He shook his head. "It couldn't reach him though—"

"_What?_"

Unprepared for the distress in Sirius' voice, Harry shifted against the cold ground. "It didn't work… Voldemort was too strong or you didn't want to kill him enough like you and Snape explained; you said you had to want to in order to cast the Unforgivables… It was just floating there so I grabbed it and shoved it at him..."

He trailed off; five stunned faces.

"You…" Sirius' mouth moved but no other words emerged.

After an interminable stretch, Snape muttered, "Typical."

"You directed Sirius' curse?" Shacklebolt said slowly. "From _inside_ your mind?"

"I…" Harry had an odd wish that he didn't have to answer that. It had all seemed perfectly simple at the time. "I had to," he said quietly to Sirius; another wish that they were alone or at least that Sirius would blink. "Voldemort was trying to kill you. I could sense you and Snape struggling, even after you made me leave."

"You should not have been able to sense anything," Snape said with his typical harshness. "Not with the Sleeping Spell—"

"He broke out of that," Remus murmured.

"What sleeping spell?" Harry asked sharply, turning narrowed eyes to Snape.

But it was Sirius who answered softly, "I didn't want you to come after us."

Harry stared at his godfather.

"We could not tell you where we were going," Snape added.

"We didn't know what Voldemort would be able to hear," Sirius explained quickly. "And when Snape discovered he had invaded your mind, we had to act quickly." Anger twisted Harry's stomach but he only nodded; sharply. "I couldn't risk you," Sirius said very quietly, something in his tone asking Harry to understand.

_So Sirius had risked himself instead_.

Harry clenched his fists and forced himself not to comment. And he wasn't going to ask how they had found Voldemort either. They could keep their bloody secrets; the two of them.

"We will need to notify the Minister," Shacklebolt's deep voice rumbled. "Aurors will need to be called… healers. Snape, you cannot stay…"

Snape gave a curt nod. Wormtail had freely given up his comrades in a desperate attempt to avoid Azkaban.

"Even this...?" Sirius gestured to Voldemort but Shacklebolt shook his head; his mouth was grim.

"Later perhaps."

Sirius found Snape's gaze. He didn't speak but Snape nodded again and stood. His eyes lingered on Voldemort's face before he turned on the spot and disappeared.

"I know you would prefer Harry not be exposed, Sirius," Shacklebolt was saying but Sirius flapped a hand. "But your magic will be traced—Snape's we can explain as lingering. There will be questions about your escape and where you've been—"

"Let's just get this over with." Sirius' eyes darted to Harry. "You all right?"

Harry sketched a nod. He didn't care about the idiotic Minister or the reporters. Not any longer. But he dutifully listened to Sirius explain events in language couched in Dumbledore's wish that details remain secret.

Sirius' meaningful glance told Harry that the unspoken magic he and Snape had used to lure Voldemort had something to do with the Horcruxes.

Shacklebolt took the cryptic outline in stride, nodding in all the right places. And cooking up an explanation which wouldn't terrify the Wizarding population with the horrors of Harry and his new superpowers. Sirius tensed at that. But Harry only nodded and hoped it would be over soon.

"Harry's magical signature is all over him," Shacklebolt sighed. "The examiners will know immediately that his magic was overtaken by Harry's. Even if it was your Killing Curse, Sirius… I will perform a Deletrius Spell on your wand. Otherwise, we will have no choice but to explain exactly how Harry killed him."

_Killed him. _

The words sank through Harry's skin.

The _weight _of it and Harry wanted to sick up.

Sirius' arm tightened around his shoulders. A rough kiss was pressed to the side of his head; Harry shivered.

"Come on," Sirius muttered. He pulled Harry up alongside him, kept his arm around Harry's shoulders, but this time it felt almost as if Sirius thought he would bolt if he hadn't. "We'll leave as soon as we can, I promise." Sirius' smile was faint. "Belize sounds lovely, don't you think?"

Harry's throat was too dry to do anything but nod. Sirius gripped his shoulder, his miniscule smile fading as quickly as it had come.

And very soon, they were swarmed—first by other Aurors trusted by Shacklebolt, who had to be briefed. The Minister followed after, for a quiet explanation—one during which Fudge's eyes darted to Harry with both awe and fear.

Ministry officials and reporters came next, every single one of them demanding answers from Sirius about Azkaban as soon as their shock of seeing Voldemort wore off.

Flashbulbs blinded them as photographers captured the scene from every angle. The reporters called out questions from behind the wall of Aurors holding them back.

"Sirius! Where have you been hiding?"

"What made you leave Azkaban?"

"Did you seek out your godson?"

"Did you know your godfather didn't kill Peter Pettigrew?"

"How does it feel to defeat the most powerful dark wizard we've ever known, Harry?"

"Will you demand recompense for your false imprisonment?"

"Harry! What will you do now?"

"Sirius, how will you celebrate your new freedom?"

"How does it feel to be the guardian of a hero?"

"Will you return to Hogwarts, Harry?"

"Mr. Lupin, what was your role here?"

And on and on the questions came. Almost none of them were answered honestly.

"Where will you go?"

"Will you petition for adoption?"

That one Sirius answered with a very firm yes. And for a moment, Harry forgot his irritation.

But then they were posing for photographs and it came straight back. Fudge stood with all three of them, and then alone several times with Harry—gripping Harry's hand, grinning for the popping cameras and making comments about his role in exonerating Sirius.

When the Aurors questioned them, they gave as little detail as possible, leaving out the destruction of the Horcruxes altogether.

It went on far longer than Harry could tolerate and when his answers became sharp, Sirius refused the Minister's query for an interview.

"Soon," Fudge insisted. "Everyone will want to hear from our heroes."

Sirius nodded as his hand was pumped up and down. Fudge beamed and Sirius managed a pathetic imitation of a smile as he herded Harry away from the leering crowd as more questions rang out.

"Let's get you out of here…"

Voldemort's body had already been frozen in several charms and maybe Harry should have wanted one final look, but he didn't even glance back as Sirius put a hand on his neck and guided him away. Relief clear on his face, Remus joined them.

Together, they Disapparated.

Harry wrinkled his nose as soon as they landed. Whatever Snape was drinking, he was probably going to regret it in the morning—whenever the hell morning was.

The professor was slumped in a chair, glass clenched in a white-knuckled fist. "They didn't insist their hero accompany them to a feast? Or a _parade_?"

"It's barely sunrise," Remus murmured. Snape scowled.

"Astute observation, Lupin. No wonder Shacklebolt allowed you to remain."

"Could we argue later?" Sirius asked tiredly. He massaged his forehead and drew a slow breath; his hands were shaking. Turning to Remus he said, "Thank you for trying to help, Moony."

As a dismissal it was pretty abrupt, but Remus only nodded. His smile flickered between Sirius and Harry. "Bill left?"

"Obviously."

Remus didn't react to Snape's snark either. "Contact me if you need anything, Sirius." He hesitated, sighed and left through the front door.

"I suppose I am expected to leave as well?" Snape drawled into his glass. "What is it going to be this time, Black? Rebuke or coddle?" He snorted. "Need I ask?"

"Find some coffee, Snape," Sirius answered. "Or better, go to bed."

The liquid in Snape's glass sloshed as he raised it with a hand just as shaky as Sirius'. "Not in a celebratory mood? You must be pleased with yourself, Potter. To have killed the Dark Lord without a thought." His eyes were suddenly gleaming as he caressed the glass with a long finger. "That much power…"

Sirius rounded and under Snape's fuzzy gaze, he snatched the tumbler away. "Go to sleep, you drunken idiot."

Snape's lips snapped together. Before he could find a suitable retort, Sirius took Harry's elbow and turned for the stairs.

"You'll celebrate in Belize," Snape muttered as the chair's springs creaked. His grumbles faded away and the library door slammed before they reached the landing.

"What's the matter with him?"

Sirius sighed. "We summoned the incarnations of the Horcruxes... it was disturbing; for Snape especially."

Harry squinted at his godfather. "What does that mean?"

Sirius shook his head. "Memories," he explained, "which Snape preferred not to relive—"

"Not that."

Sirius' eyebrows indicated his surprise at the snappy interruption, but Harry asked anyway, "What is an incarnation of a Horcrux?"

"Oh. Er, well… it's a physical manifestation of the magic Voldemort invoked to create the Horcruxes, I suppose you could say."

That hardly answered the question but Harry was in no mood to beg for an involvement which he had every right to. "Right," he said and turned for the bed. "Sleep sounds brilliant."

Sirius watched for a moment while Harry tried to straighten the rumpled bedclothes. "Here," he finally murmured, "let me do that…"

Harry crossed his arms jerkily and leaned against the wall as Sirius took care of the sheets and then shook out the blanket, taking time to smooth out the wrinkles and fold down the top as if he was some sort of fussy house-elf. Harry scowled at nothing when Sirius stepped back.

"Thanks," he muttered.

"You're welcome…" Sirius cleared his throat as Harry covered himself with jerks. "Are you certain you feel like sleeping? If you want to talk about—"

"Knackered," Harry told him firmly. And then when crinkles of worry appeared around Sirius' eyes, he relented. "Later, yeah?"

Sirius nodded, but instead of leaving Harry to it, he sat on the edge of the bed. "We can leave as soon as you'd like," he said. "For Belize," he clarified quietly, but Harry had understood; they had talked of it often enough. "Hermione's brochures were rather helpful… that is, if you still want to go the Muggle route. I don't think a Wizarding resort would be a wise idea just now. I reckon Shacklebolt will arrange a Portkey for us, if we ask. Or we could take an aeroplane… I've always wanted to ride one." He half-smiled. "Mostly to irritate my mother…"

He fell silent, his hands clasped tightly in his lap.

Harry considered the fizzing anger in his belly as Sirius cleared his throat again.

"We don't have to decide right now."

"No," Harry finally found his voice, "an aeroplane might be fun." After all, he had always wanted to ride one as well—at least he had each time the Dursleys left him with Mrs. Figg to go to Majorca.

Sirius smiled. "Good," he said. "I don't know how to arrange one… Hermione will, I suppose. I'll sort it out," he said quickly. "You sleep, yes? We'll pack when you wake up and leave tonight? There isn't any reason to wait, I shouldn't think—bit tired of these walls and Snape will probably be glad to be rid of us, though we might need to hide the liquor."

Harry nodded, concern beginning to undermine the bit of irritation left. Sirius never babbled. And he wasn't even smiling along with the liquor comment.

"Good boy," Sirius said, as if he was talking to himself. He patted Harry's leg. "Sleep now. You'll feel better."

"I feel all right—"

"Do you?" Sirius' eyebrows rose. His mouth twitched but at least his shoulders relaxed. "Feel rather dodgy myself… bit of a whirlwind there… and then when you Apparated to us—" He grimaced. "Well, we can talk about all of that later."

"Yeah," Harry grumbled as he hiked the blanket up. "Sure."

Sirius' head tilted, his grey eyes probing. "Would you like something to help you sleep?"

Harry noticed then how strange Sirius looked; there seemed to be more white in his pupils and his eyes were glazed as if he had a fever.

Harry scrutinized his godfather. "You… weren't hurt, were you?"

Sirius' face softened. "No, no," he assured. "Not in the least." He moved Harry's hair off his forehead with a gentle sweep of his hand. "I wouldn't ever want to do that again, but I'm relieved more than anything else at this moment."

Harry could understand that. Swallowing, he murmured, "I thought…"

…_you were going to die._ The words wouldn't form.

Sirius' throat rippled. "I know, and I'm sorry about that. It happened so quickly and I didn't know you would sense us."

Harry glanced away. His voice was gruff when it emerged, "You should sleep."

"I will."

Harry nodded. "Does Snape know how Voldemort invaded my mind?" he asked when he was looking at Sirius again.

"I don't think so," Sirius began with regret.

"Doesn't matter."

"We could ask him about it before we leave."

Harry shrugged. Sirius' chest rose and fell but he made no sound. He massaged the lines in his forehead again and then spelled the single lamp down. Sunlight was beginning to seep in through the faded curtains. Sirius sighed out loud this time and then tangled his fingers in his lap, his eyes glued to Harry's face.

"Sirius?"

"Hmm?"

"You, erm… don't need to stay in here."

"Oh." Sirius stood in one swift movement. "Right, sorry."

"I mean… you need to sleep as well. You don't have to leave," Harry amended lamely. But Sirius shook his head.

And then just as abruptly as he'd stood, he bent and kissed the top of Harry's head, his fingers pausing for a moment to brush over the strands. "Love you, mate," he muttered. His face was in shadows as he straightened. "Sleep well."

Harry's heartbeat was too loud as his godfather's footsteps clipped the floorboards until he'd crossed the corridor and then Harry heard only silence.

oOoOo

As soon as he crossed the threshold into his room, Sirius leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. His heart was wind in his ears—a roaring typhoon and he had no idea how to make it stop.

How to peel the crawling unease from where it had burrowed under his skin.

_Harry's safe. _

But no matter how many times his mind repeated it, it was impossible to believe.


	2. Seething Tides

_A/N: This chapter is for jogger, who has been waiting for it almost as long as I have. _

**Chapter 2: Seething Tides**

Harry woke up groggy and with muscles that felt like they had been pulled apart and put back together strand by strand.

His legs bumped into solid air as he turned. He blinked, sorting through his confusion at finding a neat stack of clothes at the bottom of the bed.

His clothes.

He sat up slowly, caught the scent of fresh laundry and glanced across the corridor. Sirius' door was open and if he concentrated, he could hear rustling. Doors opening and closing.

Harry glanced at the clock on one of the shelves. He'd been asleep for six hours.

He wondered if Sirius had slept at all.

There was a backpack on his bed and on top his Hogwarts' trunk, which was sitting in the corner of the room, another neat stack of clothes.

Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed, considering the evidence that their holiday was in order—at least if he packed, it might be.

He ran his finger along the edge of the backpack. He'd never seen it before; it looked new.

He turned his head at the sound of Sirius' soft footsteps. "Sleep well?" he asked as he stopped in the doorway. The shadows under his eyes were deeper now, the planes sharper. He looked dreadful.

"I was just about to make lunch," Sirius said when Harry nodded. "You hungry?"

"Mmhm."

"Hermione sent that through the Floo," Sirius said, nodding toward the new pack. "She's still with the Weasleys. She and Ron went to the village and bought a few things for me. Made arrangements for the aeroplane as well; reminded me that you need a passport. I have one already; Dumbledore thought I might need one but I never did use it." He went to the desk and showed Harry some documents. "Yours is here; just needs a photograph."

"You made it?" Harry asked, surprised at how authentic it looked. Dudley had once waved his in front of Harry's nose; more than once.

Sirius shrugged. "It was fairly simple. I copied mine."

"Oh."

"Hermione sent us documents for flying as well... It sounds rather complicated, actually. And it will take several hours—Ambergris Caye is where we're going, near San Pedro. I asked Shacklebolt for a Portkey in case you want to take that instead—"

Harry settled his glasses on his nose and shrugged. "Doesn't matter."

Sirius slid his hands into his pockets. "Right. We need to be at Heathrow—that's the airport?" At Harry's nod, Sirius went on, "We'll need to be there at five o'clock if you don't want to take the Portkey. I've almost finished. I put an Undetectable Extension Charm on my backpack. I'll put one on yours as well, yeah?"

"Sure."

Sighing, Sirius turned his attention to the backpack and cast the charm quickly. "There we are. Everything should fit now. If you need any help—"

Harry slid off the bed. "Nah, won't take long."

Sirius pressed his lips together, but only for a moment before he nodded. "I'll just finish up then."

"OK"

Harry was already sorting through the shirts on top of his trunk as Sirius padded away. Frowning, he picked at a loose thread. It didn't matter that Sirius had spelled him to sleep, did it? They were both fine.

_And Voldemort is dead_.

He scowled at the buzzing voice in his head and dumped the stack of shirts into the backpack. He went back to his school trunk, lifting the lid with a solid squeak.

Schoolbooks; wouldn't need those. Uniforms; definitely not.

Swimming trunks. He would probably need those.

It being an island and all…

He hadn't even realized they were in there; hadn't worn them since fourth year.

He stopped wondering if they still fit as he noticed a brown corner poking out from underneath the fabric. He shifted it aside, found a familiar parcel.

He picked it up, dented the skewed wrapping, wrinkled as it was. He'd forgot he had that.

Sirius' voice next to his ear startled him. "You didn't open that?"

Harry squinted up at his godfather, who seemed rather tall from this perspective. Not having a ready answer, he shook his head; Sirius frowned.

"Why not?"

Harry turned the parcel over and over in his hands as he figured how best to answer that. "You said I could use it to contact you."

Sirius tilted his head, his grey eyes full of a curiosity that made him look years younger. "And you didn't want to?"

"You wanted me to contact you if Snape mistreated me during our Occlumency lessons," Harry reminded him.

"Yes, I remember," Sirius said with a slow nod, looking no less confused. "But even if I believed that Snape didn't mistreat you during all of that time, that doesn't explain why you never opened it."

Harry hesitated, something about Sirius' tone unsettling him a bit. "I knew you would be angry if I told you about anything that Snape did."

Sirius' eyebrows went up gradually. "So you decided not to contact me… not only that, but you didn't even bother to open it? Even though you had no idea what it was?"

Guilt made Harry's stomach squirm, even though he didn't think he had anything to feel guilty for. "I… guess I thought you would leave here if you knew that Snape was so awful in our lessons—"

Harry stopped speaking abruptly as Sirius' jaw tightened. "Awful?" he demanded in a quiet, flat voice.

Harry tried to shrug; it was entirely too sharp to be nonchalant. "You know how he is, Sirius." Sirius' fists clenched briefly and there was a tiny quiver around his mouth. "It's all right," Harry added quickly. "I was fine. I just didn't want you to be in danger and I knew if you heard anything, you might come to Hogwarts."

Sirius said nothing for a long moment; Harry watched him as he lowered himself onto the bed. "You know," Sirius said slowly, "you have rather a bad habit of making choices for other people."

Harry stared at him.

"Don't look as though you don't understand my meaning," Sirius went on, his voice softly chiding now and Harry could feel his face growing warm even though he wasn't entirely sure what he was being scolded for. "This is hardly the only time you've decided what was best for someone else."

"I didn't—"

"You absolutely did," Sirius interrupted as he leaned forward, and though his tone didn't change, Harry bristled.

"I only wanted to make sure you were safe."

"You didn't trust that I'd stay put here so you decided I could do without certain information," Sirius corrected. "Information, I might add, that I specifically asked you to share with me."

"Yeah well, it's my choice what to share with you, isn't it?" Harry hadn't exactly meant to express himself quite so brusquely; Sirius straightened.

"Yes," he agreed in that same quiet voice. "I suppose it is." Without warning, he slipped the parcel from Harry's grasp. "I spent quite a few hours wondering why you never contacted me," he murmured as he tugged the knot of string, "since I didn't think I had done anything to make you angry with me."

"You hadn't."

Sirius made a soft sound; not quite a snort. "I simply inspired no trust." He shook his head when Harry opened his mouth to deny it. "You were hardly alone in that."

Not knowing what to say, Harry listened to the wrapping crackle as Sirius nudged it aside. A mirror caught the ceiling's reflection. "Two-way mirrors. This one was your dad's," Sirius said, flicking a scrap of parchment aside with a thumbnail; it fluttered to the floor. "I have the other one." He tilted it, finding his own melancholy smile this time. "We used them to talk to one another in detention."

He shook his head a little as he returned the gift to Harry. "I was looking forward to speaking with you more often."

Harry didn't say anything as he took the mirror.

"I'll give you the other one if you like… you and Ron can use them." Sirius stood; gestured to the corridor. "Snape is waiting for us." He stood beside the door, his arms limp by his sides, waiting while Harry vacillated.

He stared at the smudges Sirius' fingers had made against the glass, trying to figure out if he could explain how afraid he'd been that Sirius would be thrown back in Azkaban.

"I thought it was just a way to contact you in an emergency," he said, studying his own reflection and feeling awful. "I didn't know I would be able to talk to you more often."

"Because you didn't bother to open it—"

"I didn't not bother—"

"You're right," Sirius said with a sharp nod. "You made a decision not to open it. A very poor one, I might add."

Harry felt the slow heat crawling up his face and before he could stop himself he muttered, "You would know all about those."

Sirius' eyes narrowed and the half-step he took back into the room made Harry's insides twist. "I do know all about poor decisions," his godfather agreed in clipped tones. "I've made plenty of them—"

Despite the knots, Harry snorted. "I know."

Sirius was slow to find his voice. "What does that mean?"

A new smudge appeared on the mirror as Harry swiped a thumb across. "Nothing."

"It means something."

Harry flicked his eyes up. Sirius had folded his arms across his chest. His eyebrows climbed.

Harry ignored the fire in his cheeks and stumbled up. "Just nothing," he said as he turned away, the mirror now clutched in a fist.

"If you have something to say to me," Sirius' deep voice caught him from behind, "go ahead."

"Well, I don't," Harry retorted. He set the mirror next to his wand on the bedside table and swiped up the bundle of socks from the top of the dwindling pile of clothes Sirius had cleaned for him earlier.

Sirius plucked them from Harry's grip and Harry turned, nearly colliding with his godfather's chest. Sirius tossed the socks into the waiting backpack.

"Something about a mistake I've made?" he asked, as casual as could be. Only the set of his jaw said otherwise.

"No—"

"Because if we're discussing mistakes," Sirius interrupted, "you might think about some of your own during the past few days."

"Mine? What have I done?"

"What have you _done?_ Aside from searching for Voldemort—"

"I didn't—"

"You did. A habit, you said it had become. I don't appreciate your lying to me." Harry tried to protest that but Sirius went right on, "And then you came back when you knew I didn't want you there—"

"He was trying to kill you!" Harry exploded. The knots in his gut had coiled tight. "And what about you?"

"Me?"

"Spelling me to sleep? What do you call that?"

"Protecting you. Voldemort had invaded your mind already and he was trying to kill you—"

"And you're immune?" Harry shot back. "He almost did kill you. You and Snape both. He would have if your sleeping spell had worked!"

"You don't know that—"

"Yeah, I do," Harry said, nearly shouting now. "Your Killing Curse wasn't strong enough—"

"I would have cast it again," Sirius said tightly. "Or strangled him with my bare hands if I had had to. I didn't want you anywhere near him."

"So you spelled me to sleep? It's a bit like Mrs. Weasley's Calming Draught, isn't it?"

"It's nothing like that!"

"You had no right—"

"I would do anything for you," Sirius said through gritted teeth, "and that includes spelling you to sleep if necessary."

Harry crossed his arms, and narrowed his eyes. "Sounds like her excuse too."

"Molly Weasley is not your mother, and she had no right to sneak potions into your tea."

"Well, neither do you!"

"I didn't—"

"Yeah, you just spelled me to sleep," he scoffed. "I would have expected that from Snape, not you."

Harry blinked as Sirius' finger was suddenly hovering in front of his nose. "Don't you dare compare me to Snape," he said, his voice low. "I used that spell because I knew you wouldn't listen to reason—"

"Reason," Harry began to huff.

"Stop interrupting me," Sirius snapped. "I knew you wouldn't stay behind and I was right, wasn't I? Even after Remus took you away forcibly, you came back. I didn't want you there and I will _not_ apologize for that spell. I would do it again if I thought it would keep you safe."

"That's bollocks!"

"I know you haven't forgotten that I'm your guardian now, which means I have every right to make those sorts of decisions." Sirius' jaw flexed. "Especially when you cannot be trusted to do as I ask."

"You're right," Harry said, his voice coming out uneven and hoarse, "and I'm not going to, not when it means something might happen to you."

Sirius' hands flapped the air before he tucked them against his chest with jerky movements. "How many times will I have to say this for you to understand that you are not the adult here?"

"It didn't matter that you were the adult! Not this time and not after Hermione and I saved you from the Dementors! Remember that? You weren't complaining then, were you?"

"I was half out of my mind that night!"

"One of your mistakes?" Harry mocked.

"Yes," Sirius agreed harshly. "If I had been in my right mind, I would have spelled _Remus_ to sleep instead of chasing him through the bloody forest. And then I should have planted you in your dormitory under guard."

"Oh brilliant plan, Sirius and then the Dementors would have killed you—"

"We are not talking about that!"

"Then what the hell are we talking about?"

Sirius' chest rose and fell with a deep breath; his hands were clenching opposite sleeves. "You have no idea what a proper father is—"

"And you do? A proper father doesn't spell his son to sleep!"

"If his son is incapable of following simple instructions he does!"

"You didn't give me any instructions!"

"And you've given me every reason to trust that you would obey me, have you?" Sirius demanded, his movements sharp as he dropped his arms. "You haven't disregarded me at every chance?"

Harry sputtered senselessly for a second. "I haven't—"

"You went in after Snape after I told you not to," Sirius said right over him, practically vibrating with his frustration as he ticked Harry's sins off on his fingers, "you searched the streams no matter that it was dangerous, and you asked Snape to find Peter even though you knew I didn't want him to—"

"You were being impossible—"

"Did it occur to you that I didn't particularly want my friend putting himself in danger?" Sirius asked, sarcasm marring his tone. "Or that I didn't want Snape to die for my freedom?"

"No, I thought you might actually care that I might have to live with Shacklebolt!"

"Of course I didn't want that, but that doesn't mean I was willing to put people's lives in danger."

"You agreed to it!"

"That is because saying no to you is apparently impossible."

"Fine," Harry spat, "then you should just let the Weasleys adopt me."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Harry grimaced at the shout. Sirius raked a hand through his hair and punched out a breath. "No one else is adopting you—"

Harry shoved his hands into his pockets. "Well, if I'm such a bloody nuisance—"

"You are not a nuisance." Sirius' voice was quieter now but somehow the anger had remained. "I just want you to understand that you can't go on as you have, without regard to your own safety."

"And who's going to regard your safety, eh? Because I have to say Sirius," he said glibly as he turned his back, "you're complete pants at it."

Without warning, Sirius took his arm and spun him around. Harry opened his mouth to protest but the flare of Sirius' nostrils stopped him.

"You are completely out of line," Sirius said, his voice dropping to a lower timbre. "Are you even aware that I'm thirty-six and you're fifteen?"

Harry found his voice only to croak, "Yes."

"Then don't speak to me as though you're not," Sirius snapped. His face burning, Harry could only manage a nod. Sirius pressed his lips together. The silence clung to them, both of them staring; not moving.

Until finally, Sirius let go.

Harry's arm tingled with the loss, even though the grip hadn't been tight in the least. He bit his lip—even his eyes were burning now. The muscles along Sirius' jaw jumped, his throat bobbed as well. But all he said was, "I'll call you when lunch is ready."

Harry watched him until he rounded the doorframe. Gripping the spot where Sirius had held his arm, Harry sat on the bed, staring at empty air.

oOoOo

Sirius' heart refused to settle as he went down the stairs; his throat was so tight he couldn't swallow. The sensation heightened as he met Snape's black gaze from the library.

A tiny smirk lifted the other man's thin lips. "Trouble in paradise?"

The tiny heartbeat in Sirius' forehead pulsed. "Toss off, Snape."

Snape's smile disappeared. He scowled, which Sirius met with one of his own before veering into the kitchen. He took several random pots from the cupboard before giving up and sinking into one of the chairs. He dropped his face into his hands and tried to press the headache into oblivion; it didn't work.

How had a simple conversation deteriorated into this? Shouting at each other as loudly as Sirius' mother had once shouted at him. Though to be fair, Sirius supposed he had witnessed James in a similar row with his own father… several times in fact.

Not that that made Sirius feel better. For God's sake, Harry had been torn apart and put together more times than he cared to think about during the past weeks. And now that Voldemort was finally gone…

"Regretting your new role already?"

Sirius dropped his fingers only enough to glare at Snape.

"Hardly surprising," Snape went on as he hovered near the doorway. "The boy was always more trouble than he was worth."

Sirius raised his head slowly; his hands curled on the table. "Don't—"

"What? Speak the truth?" Snape interrupted with a sneer. "Potter is a disrespectful whelp. He always has been. Someone should have thrashed him long ago. Perhaps… if you are squeamish—"

The chair screeched across the floor as Sirius shot to his feet. "You touch my godson, Snape, and you'll be following Voldemort into the afterlife."

"Will I? And how will you accomplish that? Your attempt to kill the Dark Lord was pathetic. Pity you were not strong enough to spare your precious godson."

Sirius' chest felt squeezed; it was painful to breathe. "Shut up," he whispered. Snape smiled his cruelest smile.

"He has the Dark Lord's blood on his hands now," he drawled. "And he will be a hysterical mess once he realizes it. At least then he will be easier to corner. He responds quite well to physical correction—"

With a cry of rage, Sirius rounded the table and slammed Snape into the wall. He thrust his wand into Snape's throat.

The wood trembled against skin. "You bloody bastard…"

Snape's face was frozen… expressionless except for the flicker of fear in the black eyes.

And there was no mistaking the slight tremor as he breathed, "Perhaps, I did not adequately explain the effects dark magic might have on a person…"

Sirius stared at him. Slowly, sense began to seep into his brain and as the words untangled themselves, his fingertips began to tingle.

He dropped his hands.

There was an angry red splotch where his wand had gouged Snape's neck.

Squeezing the lower half of his face until it throbbed, Sirius backed into the table. "_Bastard_." His chest heaved as he watched Snape peel himself from the wall.

Snape's eyes flicked to the wand still held in straining fingers.

"That's a dangerous game," Sirius rasped. He was cold through.

Snape's hand twitched toward his wand pocket, but otherwise he was a statue. "I underestimated the intensity of the magic's grip…"

Sirius took a deep breath. Fucking hell. "Why hasn't it affected you?"

"It has."

Several more breaths before Sirius could lower his wand.

Snape's shoulders relaxed. "And I did not cast an Unforgivable."

"It failed."

"It killed the dark lord," Snape said; not quite evenly. "Even though it needed guidance from Potter, it was your magic that killed him."

"Helped to kill him," Sirius corrected; the admittance galled him. And it always would. This one thing he had wanted to spare Harry from. This one damn thing.

"Dumbledore always believed he would die by Harry's hand."

Sirius gazed at him, irritated for no reason at all. So simply put. So easy for Snape. "Bully for Dumbledore."

"Pity he missed it."

Mirth was elusive. Sirius couldn't even summon a smile. He sank into the nearest chair instead and lowered his head.

All his efforts bollixed in a moment's loss of temper.

_Adopted by the Weasleys… _

Over his dead body.

"I should have killed you when I first found out you hit him," Sirius muttered to the cracked floor.

The tick of the clock was mountainous in the silence.

Snape finally murmured, "We were not in the same reality."

Sirius shifted his eyes upward. Snape was watching him, all sneering pretense gone. Sirius swallowed and looked away. "Do you have a potion?"

"Yes." Snape's robes swished.

"If you ever touch Harry again, I will."

Snape's footsteps stilled. "I have no doubt."

Grimly satisfied with that, Sirius closed his eyes and tried to trace the darkness staining his soul.

_TBC…_


	3. Took Us By Surprise

**Chapter 3: Took Us By Surprise**

Harry nudged the backpack with a toe and sighed. Belize would have been brilliant. But he should have known he would muck it up somehow. He hadn't really expected that he could make Sirius so angry though… but then, he seemed to have a gift for irritating the adults around him—or disgusting them.

Except Sirius.

Until now, anyway.

Harry turned away from the spiteful luggage and pressed his cheek into the pillow.

The clock had ticked off an hour and Sirius hadn't called him for lunch.

Good job he wasn't hungry.

He tilted the mirror so that it reflected the soft light behind him. He should have opened the bloody parcel. But he hadn't known it was a way to chat with Sirius. And if he had…

Harry sighed. He still wouldn't have told Sirius about Snape.

And no matter what, Harry wasn't going to sit still while Sirius was in danger. He just wasn't.

But the other…

Harry flipped onto his back, frowning into the mirror. He hadn't even realized he'd been shouting; not really. Not that he shouted so often that he shouldn't have noticed.

His heart felt squeezed, but he pushed himself up and went to his trunk. He would just tell Sirius that he hadn't meant it. He'd been a prat before, hadn't he?

Endlessly.

Trying to ignore the prickles in his throat, Harry wrapped the mirror in a soft jumper. He was fairly certain Sirius would keep the other one if he asked. And then they could use it when he went back to school at least.

It would be strange, Harry mused as he cradled the mirror between several of Sirius' letters at the bottom of his trunk. Not to return to the Dursleys. And Sirius would take him to the train, see him off and then Christmas—

Harry closed the lid abruptly and sank to the floor, his head tipping to rest against the trunk.

What an utter berk he'd been.

"That can't be comfortable."

Harry started and with his heart fluttering its surprise, he lifted his head. Sirius was standing in the doorway.

"Er… no, not really," he muttered.

Sirius smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "We'll have to find you a mattress that you actually like to lie on when we move."

Harry stared as his godfather crossed the room.

"May I?" Sirius asked, indicating the empty patch of floor.

Harry squinted, but he ignored his confusion and nodded.

Sirius lowered himself to the floor, his wince barely noticeable as he settled beside Harry. He crossed his feet at the ankles and tangled his fingers. Harry watched him tapping his thumbs.

"Of all my mistakes," Sirius finally murmured, "allowing Hagrid to take you away was the worst."

Harry's stomach flipped. "I didn't mean—"

But Sirius continued as if he hadn't spoken, "I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for that."

Even through the swelling in his throat Harry wanted to explain, but Sirius didn't let him speak.

"And then two years ago," he said, "I let Peter get away. Two years that you wouldn't have had to worry about the Dursleys. Two years that I could have been around—and not just contacting you in letters and seeing you occasionally in Hogsmeade."

"I regret those things more than I can explain," Sirius sighed. "But I can't regret spelling you to sleep." He dropped his arms, refolded them again, and cleared his throat. "And I know it seems hypocritical considering that if it hadn't been for you, I would have been Kissed by the Dementors."

"Sirius—"

"But I wouldn't have allowed you to come after me that night either, had I known," Sirius went on, shaking his head slightly.

Harry didn't interrupt again and with a grimace, Sirius went back to staring at his thumbs. "Dumbledore had no right to ask you to risk yourself that way. It was his responsibility to keep you safe, something he made a poor job of. Most of the adults in your life have made the same mistakes, including your professors in some regards, and Snape—though God help me he _has_ tried…"

Sirius drew a breath and looked at Harry. "I am very sorry I lost my temper."

Harry stared at him, the unexpected words stinging him.

"I didn't explain myself well either," Sirius said, grimacing a bit. "Or maybe you aren't ready to hear me. But I need you to hear me now."

Anxiety and shame warred; neither won as Harry nodded.

Sirius' hand settled over his, the grip strong and for some reason Harry found his throat tightening again. "I am very grateful that things worked out as they did," Sirius said. "Peter captured and finally having custody of you, something I always should have had. I did not mean that I regret any of that; I just wish you hadn't blindsided me."

"I know…"

"Do you? The _only_ hesitations I had were for the others' safety. I would have listened," Sirius said quietly. "If you had come to me. I wanted Peter to be captured just as much as you did."

"Yeah," Harry said, his voice thick. "I know. I _do_. It's just... I don't know, I didn't think about it…" He shifted. "Asking you," he mumbled in case Sirius couldn't decipher that.

His godfather smiled. "I do understand that you have no idea how to be somebody's child, and I can't claim to know anything about being a father, but I'm not giving up hope that we'll sort it out."

Harry wasn't certain what that meant, but it didn't sound entirely dreadful.

"When he brought the Portkey, Shacklebolt told me that adopting you is only a matter of a few signatures," Sirius added. He quirked a small grin. "A matter of formality, you might say."

Only this one Harry could live with.

His eyebrow raised, Sirius found his gaze. "I should have asked before I blabbed it to the newspapers, but that is what you want, yes?"

"Yeah," Harry grunted. "Of course."

"Good. Because it was going to be wands at midnight with Molly if you didn't."

Harry had to bite the edge of his lip to keep from grinning. "Don't think she has time for dueling, Sirius."

"Sensible," Sirius mused. "Molly Weasley could probably trounce me."

The grin escaped.

Sirius let out a soft chuckle, and slipping an arm round Harry's shoulders, pulled him in. He rested his chin on Harry's head, his chest caving with a deep sigh.

As Harry allowed himself to relax, he wondered how something so simple could ease the ache in his chest. Not completely, of course; the guilt was still waiting patiently.

But before he could begin to cobble together an apology, Sirius said, "Snape gave me a crash course in Occlumency downstairs."

Harry lifted his head; found no answers in Sirius' face and warbled, "Why?"

"It seems dark magic doesn't agree with me."

Harry considered the strain in his godfather's face with new eyes. The killing curse had to wreak more havoc on the caster than the Imperius. And whatever they had done with the Horcruxes couldn't be helping.

"Are you all right?" he asked as he continued to scour Sirius' face for some sort of answer.

"Better," Sirius said with the stench of exaggeration in his voice. He half-smiled, probably sensing Harry's disbelief. "I managed to stay relatively sane in Azkaban, so this really is just a little inconvenience. And as a matter of fact, Padfoot helps with this as well."

"How do you mean?"

"Something about a dog's brain—any animal, I should think—allowed me to cut off emotion and the Dementors couldn't affect me the way they do others. Snape suggested I channel that, which is a sight more difficult with a human brain, but I was better at it than he expected. Which irritated him—a perk."

Harry smirked. It promptly faded. "And Snape was affected too, wasn't he? With whatever you were doing before I came?"

"He's managing it better than me," Sirius promised.

Harry nodded. Tentatively, he asked, "Are you going to tell me what you and Snape were doing?"

Sirius didn't answer straight away.

Deciding he could compromise this much, Harry said, "You don't have to."

"No," Sirius sighed. "It isn't that I don't want to tell you. It's unpleasant to relive, that's all. Snape found a spell in one of my grandfather's books... to summon the Horcruxes and Voldemort. I thought it would mean we could get rid of him without bringing you. We destroyed the Horcruxes and then I tried to kill Voldemort."

"It was your spell," Harry offered, finally understanding the stress in Sirius' voice.

"Yes." Sirius kneaded the back of Harry's neck. "Snape said the same thing. Doesn't make it easier to accept though." He slanted Harry a glance. "You probably understand that."

Harry found his eyebrows crumpling. "Me?"

"Each of us," Sirius explained, making a little gesture between them. "Trying to protect the other. I don't think I have any choice but to accept that, do I?"

He sounded wistful and Harry wasn't certain which answer would suit. "I didn't want anything to happen to you."

"I know," Sirius said softly. "And I promise I'll do my best to be safe from now on. I don't want you to have any reason to worry, not after all this, not that I ever wanted that. I didn't want you to be the one facing Voldemort either; I meant to spare you that—"

"It's all right," Harry said quickly, wanting the pain on his godfather's face to go away. "I shouldn't have said all those things. You haven't made any mistakes—that was a stupid thing to say. It's not your fault your spell wasn't strong enough. It didn't hurt me, not when I pushed it at him. It's all my fault anyway," he muttered. "If I had opened the mirror, I never would have tried to use the Floo in Umbridge's office because I would have known you were all right, and she wouldn't have cursed me and then none of this would have happened and you wouldn't have been tortured—Snape either and the realities wouldn't even have been split and—"

"Oy…" Sirius caught Harry's chin, stilling the tumbling flow of words. "Now, that's enough of that. Of course it isn't your fault. You didn't know it was a mirror, just as you said, and you did not force Umbridge to use that curse. Voldemort tortured Snape. And me. _None of it_ was your fault."

Harry swallowed, but didn't try to pull away. "It isn't your fault your curse wasn't strong enough," he pointed out. Sirius blinked at him.

"Yes, well, I suppose that's true enough." Before Harry could feel triumphant, Sirius went on, "I'll make a deal with you—you stop blaming yourself for every ill in the world and I will try not to dwell on my failed killing curse."

Harry pulled a face. "Every ill?" he echoed. "I don't do that. And how come you only have to try?"

"Because," Sirius said, pulling him in again, "I'm a tyrant."

Harry smiled and somehow all the worries tumbling about in his head didn't seem so important any longer. He surveyed the clothes Sirius had folded so neatly, the backpack with its extension charm and his trunk where the mirror waited for him.

"What do you say?" Sirius asked, following his gaze. "Ready to leave this old place?"

"Yeah," Harry said, something like excitement tugging at his lips.

"Snorkeling," Sirius announced as he stood and pulled Harry along with him. "First thing when we arrive."

"Do we need some sort of equipment?"

"Swimming trunks and a Bubble-head Charm."

"I don't think mine fits," Harry mused as Sirius stacked the rest of the clothes in the backpack and zipped it.

"You have an old Bubble-head Charm?" Sirius smirked.

"Yeah," Harry intoned, "and it doesn't fit."

Sirius tossed the backpack to him. "I'll buy you a new one. Come on, I asked Snape to check for lingering effects of dark magic."

"I thought he already did."

"Not me," Sirius said as they went down the stairs. "You."

_TBC…_

_A/N: Thanks for your help, Jade! *smooches*_


	4. Waters Wide

**Chapter 4: Waters Wide**

"What?" Harry asked when he could no longer stomach Snape's scrutiny. "Voldemort can't possibly be in there."

"He is not."

Relieved despite himself, Harry let out his breath. "Oh."

"_Is_ something the matter?" Sirius asked. Harry glanced at him, his stomach twisting unpleasantly when he found his godfather's worried eyes.

"No," Snape answered. His scrutiny switched to Sirius. "I was trying to ascertain your likelihood of success."

Looking between them, Harry asked, "Success with what?"

"I asked Snape to teach me enough that I would be able go inside your mind without him," Sirius explained.

"Oh. Erm…" Unable to be delicate, Harry leaned in and asked quietly, "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Sirius grimaced. "I'll feel better if I can help if you need it, not that you probably will. I know it's silly, but I don't like that you have the streams in there, even if Voldemort is dead."

"No," Harry said hastily, "not that you shouldn't help me. Just… well, Snape…"

Glowering, Snape cut in, "I believe he is trying to warn you of my abysmal teaching abilities."

"Not abysmal," Harry said uncomfortably.

"What exactly did you do to him?" Sirius asked, turning narrowed eyes to Snape.

Letting up on his scowl by a margin, Snape said tightly, "I attempted to teach him Occlumency."

"How?"

"Sirius," Harry began to cut in but Sirius held up a hand and Harry fell silent.

"How?" Sirius repeated, this time with an edge. Snape glared at him for a protracted minute.

"The same way I learned. I admit attacking his mind may not have been the best method—"

"You _attacked_ him?"

"The Dark Lord's methods were similar and it stood to reason—"

"And I suppose your own loathing of James had nothing to do with it?"

Instead of answering, Snape said, "If he had bothered to apply any of what I was attempting to teach him, the lessons would not have been nearly as harsh."

"You're blaming Harry for your ineptitude?" Sirius demanded. Harry realized he was holding his breath as he waited for Snape to continue on about what an enormous failure he was.

Sirius blew out a sharp breath before Snape had a chance. "I don't know what the hell Dumbledore was thinking," he muttered, "but since I have no other options, do you foresee any problems teaching me to go into Harry's mind?"

"No," Snape said thinly, obviously offended by Sirius' words, though when exactly he had become capable of offense because of something Sirius had said, Harry had no idea.

Sirius gazed at him for a moment before turning to Harry. "We have a bit of time before we need to leave. I do think practice might be a good idea. At least on my end."

Harry nodded, not really liking the idea simply because he had loathed his lessons with Snape, but Sirius had asked and after their earlier row, Harry wasn't about to argue.

Sirius smiled and squeezed the back of his neck. "Good," he said quietly before turning his attention to Snape for instructions. Harry smiled to himself, grateful he hadn't voiced his reservations.

oOoOo

Sirius swiped the fall of hair from his forehead, exhaustion prominent in every line of his face. "Shall I go again?"

Snape, tight-lipped and pale, nodded in curt reply. Harry tensed, mostly in reaction to his memories of Snape tearing him out of so many Crucio attacks.

Sirius turned to Harry, his eyebrows arching. The silent query eased most of Harry's stress and with his quick nod, Sirius raised his wand to Harry's temple.

"If you need me to stop, I will." Sirius' comforting voice flowed over the rest of the unease. Drowned it out as his godfather uttered the familiar spell. But unlike with Snape, the invasion never came. It was a quiet presence, joining him without pressure.

He remained only for a moment, the warmth slipping away as easily as it had come. Harry shivered as he was left alone again. As he came back to himself, he frowned. Sirius was sitting in one of the chairs, his hands shaking and his chest heaving.

"Are you all right?" he asked worriedly. Sirius sketched a nod, but before he could speak, Snape had blocked Harry's view and was waving his wand over Sirius.

"You entered his mind." Somehow Snape didn't seem surprised. Though it seemed he should have been; it had only taken Sirius three tries. "It cannot be counted a success until you remain long enough to make contact," Snape added, snidely as far as Harry was concerned.

"We'll continue to practice," Sirius answered, still out of breath but without defense.

"You should not attempt it on your own until you have made contact," Snape said, finally moving so that Harry could stand near his godfather. "I cannot predict how he will react."

"Are you admitting you're fallible?"

Snape curled a lip and declined to answer. "We should practice until you succeed."

Sirius sighed and after a frowning pause, he turned to Harry. "How keen are you on the aeroplane?"

"I don't mind taking the Portkey," Harry said with a shrug.

Sirius gazed at him for another moment, his frown persisting. But he finally nodded and flexed his fingers. "You ready, then?"

Harry hooked a stool with his foot and sat when it was close enough that Sirius wouldn't have to get up. His godfather made time for a smile before bringing his wand up. "Tell me if you want me to stop."

Already concentrating, Harry nodded quickly but he didn't think he would need to stop. Sirius being in his head was worlds' different than Snape being in there. And really, Snape was tolerable these days.

"Legilimens…"

As soon as the whispered spell broke, he tensed. The habit was unnecessary now, just as it had been moments ago. And when he remembered that, recognized that this presence had no intention of harming him; wouldn't harm him no matter what, he relaxed.

Even with that, there was no pressure. The warmth waited, coalescing into a conscience that was uniquely Sirius.

Harry dropped his defences and let his godfather in.

Surprise and pride greeted him. But just as quickly as he had come, Sirius slipped away.

He felt the echo of Sirius' frustrated oath rather than hearing it. But once he let the world take shape again, Harry could see the deep fatigue in his godfather's face. He knew some of the lines were carried over from their earlier conversation and from the curse Sirius had cast at Voldemort.

"That was brilliant, Sirius," he said, leaning forward. And as a quick aside to Snape, he said, "He got in."

"You let me in," Sirius corrected.

"That is ideal."

Both Sirius and Harry turned their attention to Snape.

"Contrary to your experiences with it," he said, "Legilimency is not meant to be an attack; at least it was not in its inception."

"It's not?" Harry asked.

"The spell is strongest when both parties are willing."

"You didn't seem to have any difficult when Harry wasn't willing," Sirius commented, not without a touch of rancor. Snape accepted that with the barest grimace.

"Were I not so skilled with this particular spell, I would have." A pause and then quietly, "Potter's own skill made it nearly impossible at times."

Harry stared at Snape, too surprised at the compliment to respond. Sirius, on the other hand, wasn't so constrained. "About time you admitted Harry is talented."

"More talented than you," Snape snapped.

Sirius smiled. "Two compliments in less than a minute, Snape? I do believe this is some sort of record, don't you, Harry?"

Harry bit the inside of his lips to hide his smirk. Snape scowled and bit out an order for them to attempt it again. "Since you only managed to hold the spell for three seconds," he sneered. "At this rate, you will miss your holiday entirely."

"And then you'd be stuck with us here? Perish the thought."

"Quite," Snape grumbled.

Struck with a sudden thought, Harry pulled away as Sirius positioned his wand once more. "Are you going to be all right here?" he asked, turning to Snape. "All alone, I mean?"

Snape stared at me. "I have spent the better part of my life alone, Potter. So, spare me your pity invitation."

Harry made a face, not at all stung by that tone. He glanced at Sirius, but his godfather wasn't aghast at the prospect in the least. He was watching them with a half-smile. "It's not pity," Harry said to Snape. "You're not completely intolerable, you know."

"How very generous of you," Snape drawled. "I, on the other hand, find you and your godfather quite irritating."

"No you don't."

Snape's eyes narrowed. But before he could reply, Sirius nudged Harry's knee and said, "Shacklebolt told Snape to remain here when I asked for a Portkey. It's safe here and even though we're going to be nowhere near England, it wouldn't be prudent for him to leave the protections here."

"Oh." Harry stole a look at Snape, but the professor didn't seem upset by that. In fact, he looked rather happy over the prospect of being left alone. Perhaps Snape did find them more irritating than Harry assumed. "We'll bring you home a souvenir," he said anyway, just in case.

Snape rolled his eyes. "I am honoured. Now, if would you put your attention to the task at hand, I do have other work to attend to. Unlike you, I will not be frolicking on a beach for weeks on end."

Harry sighed. Sirius, with lips twitching, brought his wand up and uttered the spell again.

oOoOo

Sirius refolded Harry's shirt and set it on top of the in tidy stack in the bureau. He could still hear the shower running—Harry was apparently making certain he eked out every last drop of hot water. Not that Sirius minded; he could spell the water hot again if he needed to. But even had he not been able to, he still wouldn't have minded.

As far as he was concerned, whatever made his godson happy, Harry would have it.

In the end, they had missed the areoplane after so many attempts by Sirius to reach Harry's mind. Though it had gone far better than any of them had expected, Sirius had been anxious to begin their holiday. Mostly because he had been hoping that Harry might perk up.

He'd been unusually quiet all evening, allowing Sirius and Snape to guide the practice session without protest. He'd seemed pleased enough with their accommodations though, a spacious bungalow on a private beach.

And perhaps a proper night's sleep would do a bit of healing as well.

Sighing, Sirius zipped Harry's now-empty pack and set the last shirt in the drawer. Snape had found nothing lingering in Harry's mind, so at least the streams would no longer trouble him.

But they hadn't even discussed Voldemort yet. His death was necessary, yes but Sirius felt nothing but unease and something like guilt when he thought about uttering the curse that had ultimately killed him. And since Harry had been the one to aim the curse…

Sirius pressed his fingertips into his eyes, pressing lightly as he massaged. No matter what he had told Harry, he wouldn't be able to stop wishing that the curse had been successful on its own.

Harry shouldn't have that on his conscience.

Sirius dropped his hand as he realized the shower was no longer running. He straightened his features, closed the drawer and turned to his own unpacking. He smiled at Harry as he came out, with water dripping onto his collar and his shirt sticking to him in damp patches.

"Feel better?"

Scrubbing a hand over his stomach, Harry nodded.

"Good," Sirius said warmly. "I'm nearly finished here and then if you're ready, we'll have a go at the techniques Snape showed me. Unless, if you've changed your mind, we could still take a walk. It's early yet."

"It feels like midnight."

"It's past midnight in London," Sirius told him with a glance for his watch. "We'll be off for a few days, I expect. Here," he added, holding out a satchel of healing potions and balms, "put this in the loo for me."

Harry turned the kit over in his hands. "What if the maid opens it?"

"It's charmed; you'll have to tap the clasp with your wand to open it."

"Oh." Harry put the satchel away quickly and then went to his backpack, staring at it in surprise once he'd opened it.

"Already took care of it," Sirius said, gripping his shoulder as he passed behind. "What do you say? We could walk down to the shore."

"Yeah, if you want."

Sirius turned, already halfway to the sitting room. "If you'd rather, we could stay in. I have no idea how to work the telly, but I imagine you do? Your dad and I snuck into a film once, but I've never seen a Muggle programme."

"I don't mind staying in."

Frowning, Sirius studied his godson's face. A face that was entirely too earnest. "You have no preference? This is your holiday as much as it is mine."

"Yeah, I know."

"And you haven't been outside in weeks, except to listen to a collection of reporters asking you questions about Voldemort."

Harry slipped his hands into his pockets, his face suddenly uncertain. "Oh. Well, yeah we have been a bit trapped, haven't we?"

Sirius gazed at Harry for a long moment, before finally nodding. "We have. Come on," he said quietly, "we'll watch the sunset."

Harry quickly pulled out of his slouch to join Sirius. When he stopped by the door to collect his shoes, Sirius ushered him out the door instead. "The sand will be cool at this hour."

Without protest, Harry followed him down the steps and into the soft sand. Sirius sighed as soon as his feet sunk into the cool grains. "Lovely, isn't it?" he asked with a sideways glance for his godson.

And Harry was smiling his appreciation, looking years younger in that brief moment. "How did you find this place?"

"Hermione made all the arrangements. I told her I wanted a cottage on the beach, she did the rest. She's quite resourceful, that girl."

"She always is," Harry agreed. "I didn't think we'd be so secluded."

"Were you hoping to have more people around?"

"No," Harry said, shaking his head fervently. "It's brilliant. It's more than brilliant. We have a whole house to ourselves… an entire beach. It must have cost a fortune."

"Well, not a fortune," Sirius said with a small smile. "Besides, the goblins were beginning to complain about the excess in my vaults."

Harry's lips turned up, but even though he was looking at the shoreline instead of Sirius, it was obvious he was worried.

Sirius gripped the base of Harry's neck. "You let me worry about the finances, hm?"

Harry glanced quickly at him. He nodded, but his lips were taut and it wasn't lost on Sirius that he wanted to argue—or at least ask more questions.

Releasing his hold, Sirius sighed inwardly. "Are you going to tell me what's bothering you, then?" he asked eventually, once they'd passed the grove of palms. "Or do I have to guess?"

Harry paused. Sirius tilted his head, trying to understand the anxiety in the green eyes. "What's the matter?" he asked gently. "Was it the lessons with Snape? I know you would prefer to leave all of that behind, but I—"

"No, that's not it. I don't mind—" Harry abruptly mashed his lips together. "Sorry," he mumbled as his cheeks darkened.

"For what?"

Shrugging, Harry said, "Didn't mean to interrupt. What were you saying?"

"Well, I was going to repeat my paranoia bit," Sirius said, squinting in study, "but I think I'd rather ask why you are apologizing for interrupting? Unless you think I'm actually Snape sloshed on Polyjuice?"

Harry cracked a smile this time. "No…"

Sirius nudged him with an elbow. "Then what is it, eh? Because I'm beginning to think you're the one who is Snape in disguise. If that face gets any longer…"

Harry sobered, but at least he no longer looked like someone was forcing him to down potions that tasted like old socks. "I dunno," he said, again stuffing his pockets full of his hands.

"You do know," Sirius countered lightly. "I'm the one who is floundering here, wondering if you secretly hate this place."

"No," Harry said quickly, his hair flying as he shook his head. "I told you, it's brilliant here. I just—" He grimaced. "I just don't want you think I'm being disrespectful again. I didn't mean to be," he said miserably.

Sirius' eyebrows had soared in surprise. "What on earth do you mean?" And then as light dawned, he blew out a breath. "Oy, Harry, I hadn't given that a moment's thought. I know you didn't mean it," he said more clearly when Harry continued to gaze at him.

"I really didn't," Harry said again, "which is stupid I know because I was shouting at you and what sort of prat shouts at his godfather? Especially after everything, and you don't have to adopt me and I'm really grateful that you want to and all—"

"Hey, hey," Sirius interrupted quietly, "slow down. First of all," he said, ducking his head to make certain his godson was looking at him, "I hardly think this will be the last time you shout at me. Not that I enjoy being shouted at, you understand, but I'm certainly not going to hold a grudge every time we have a disagreement."

"No, I know." Harry glanced away. "I mean, I know you're not holding a grudge. I just… needed you to know. I don't want you to think I'm not grateful…" Harry's cheeks were flushed again and he gritted his teeth as if he very afraid he was going to be accused of lying.

And Sirius suddenly, though not for the first time, knew an urge to dig the Dursleys from whatever grave they'd been tossed in and wring their bloody necks.

"You don't need to convince me to adopt you," he said quietly.

Harry's head snapped up.

Relieved that he'd got to the bottom of Harry's odd behavior, Sirius palmed the back of his head. "Come here…" He hugged his godson tightly, and was surprised by the fierceness of Harry's grip. He probably shouldn't have been, he realized. Days' worth of tension were in that grip—years' worth of anxieties and fears.

"You don't need to do anything," he sighed. "And even if you shouted at me every day, I would still adopt you. I probably shouldn't speak ill of the dead," he muttered while he let Harry absorb that, "but the Dursleys were wretched people if you think you need to prove your worth to me. You don't."

Something he would no doubt need to repeat. And often.

"I asked Snape to send the paperwork by owl as soon as it arrives from Shacklebolt." He leant back a little and smiled down at his godson. "I asked him after you shouted at me."

Confusion was the dominant emotion on Harry's face, even through the hesitant smile. "Come on," Sirius said, letting Harry untangle himself and then hooked his neck. "I reckon the sunset is going to be beautiful."

"I watch it from the astronomy tower at Hogwarts sometimes," Harry said, his eyes now glued to the shoreline.

"Do you?"

"Yeah. I like it up there."

"Not afraid of heights?" Sirius teased. Harry smiled.

"Wouldn't be much of a Seeker if I was."

"You are a brilliant Seeker, no doubt about that. I'm quite excited about watching you as a human this year, instead of as Padfoot. Bit difficult to watch when you're crouched under the stands."

Harry glanced at him. "You're going to come to my matches?"

"Wouldn't miss them for anything. I'll have to get myself a new House scarf, of course. I have no idea where my old one has got to. Here," he said, grinning now, "come look at this ocean. Have you ever seen water so blue? And look there, we have a boat. We'll go snorkeling tomorrow."

"The reef is the second longest in the world; the longest in the western hemisphere," Harry spoke, looking at least halfway to full-out excitement. At Sirius' questioning brows, Harry shrugged. "Hermione told me."

Sirius laughed. "What is that girl going to do without a class to take?"

"She'll have to move into a library or something."

Smiling, Sirius gave his godson a tug toward the lapping water. "No reason to come to a beach if you don't go into the water."

Harry looked down at his pyjama-clad legs, but Sirius simply waggled his eyebrows and bent to roll his own trousers to the knee. "First thing in the morning, we're going to buy you a new pair of swimming trunks. We'll look very odd snorkeling in our clothes otherwise."

His eyes filled with welcome mirth now, Harry copied Sirius' movements and then the two of them were ankles-deep in the cool water. Sirius watched Harry's slow smile, his toes as they dug into the soft sand. He probably had no idea how much excitement sparkled in his eyes in that moment.

The stress that had been dominant on his features for weeks eased, just enough for Sirius to allow his own worry to drift. "It's difficult to believe the Dursleys never took a holiday on the beach," he mused. "This is going to be a necessity now."

Harry didn't answer and instead of excitement, his face was full of clouds. Spotted easily even though he'd bowed his head. Sirius studied the hunched shoulders and tried not to let the sudden tightening of his chest to take over. "They left you behind?"

"Not alone or anything," Harry said, shrugging. "I stayed with a neighbor."

Sirius didn't say anything for a long minute, knowing how raggedly his voice would emerge. And the anger that would come along with it. And when he finally noticed Harry watching him, Sirius let his breath out. "I'm sorry they did that to you. They were idiots, you know." He nudged Harry's fringe away from his glasses and let his thumb graze the scar beneath. "No idea what they were missing," he muttered. And though it shouldn't have, Harry's small smile made Sirius' throat ache.

He watched Harry stoop to sift his fingers through the sand, finally coming up with a pink shell. "Do you think we'll find one of those conch shells, those really big ones?"

"I don't know…"

"Dean has one."

Sirius nodded, watching Harry turn the small shell over and over in his hand, his mind still with the Dursleys. And because he couldn't stand not to know, he asked quietly, "Were you telling me the truth when you told me your uncle never hurt you?"

His eyes fixed to the shell, Harry didn't answer.

Sirius' jaw ached with it sudden tension and it was an effort to loosen it. "What did he do?"

Harry's eyes flicked up, but a shrug was hardly an acceptable response.

"I want you to tell me," Sirius said softly, praying he was keeping the anger from his voice. "I need to know if he hurt you."

"I already told you—"

"But were you telling me the truth?"

The spots of colour on Harry's cheek was affirmation enough. And yet, honesty seemed to be eluding him. "It was just…"

When he didn't go on, Sirius prodded, "Just what?"

As abruptly as the unease had come, anger took its place. Defense, more accurately. Harry's posture changed and Sirius' spine straightened, readying himself.

"Why do you need to know?" Harry asked gruffly. "It doesn't matter now."

"Of course it does."

And no matter how gentle Sirius' tone was, Harry frowned. "No, it doesn't—"

"Harry," Sirius quietly interrupted. Harry sighed and dropped his gaze as soon as he met Sirius'.

"He didn't hurt me. Not the way you mean."

"He didn't hit you, you mean?" Sirius' voice was still gentle, though how he was managing that, he had no idea.

"He threatened to thousands of times, but he never did. He probably meant to, but dunno…" Harry shrugged. "… I think mostly they just forgot about me in my cupboard."

A fresh wave of anger flushed Sirius' skin. All the words he wanted to say—that he hated them; that he was glad they were dead and how he hoped there was a hell just so they might burn there… all those things he knew he couldn't say. He massaged Harry's shoulder instead and they stood there for a long minute as the water lapped their calves.

"It's warmer than I thought it would be," Harry murmured after awhile.

Sirius glanced down. Harry gave him a lopsided smile. "Just sort of assumed the ocean would be cold, I guess."

"I suppose it is in England... We'll have to visit one."

"You've never been?"

"Not in England. My parents were never keen on beaches. And usually, they took their holidays alone. Or with my brother when I was older."

Harry's brow wrinkled. "Why didn't you go with them?"

"I stayed at Hogwarts during the holidays," Sirius answered. "Or with your dad. And by the time I was thirteen, I was spending most of the summer at your dad's house as well. I preferred it that way," he said, hoping to ease the worry suddenly on Harry's face. But Harry wasn't so easily fooled. He swallowed, standing closer now to Sirius.

"You liked being at my dad's, yeah?"

Sirius smiled. "Very much. I took several holidays with his family. Remus came with us once; when we went to Rome."

"You've been to Rome?"

"Yes. Would you like to go? The wizarding villages in Italy… the architecture is something to behold."

"Yeah?" Harry said with excitement again. "Ron's family went to Egypt… oh yeah, you saw that picture in the paper."

Bypassing that little shade of chagrin, Sirius said, "We could go to Egypt as well. We don't actually have to spend weeks on the beach."

"Yes, but will we be able to frolic in Egypt?" Harry smirked.

"I am quite certain I've never frolicked in my life," Sirius chuckled. "But were I to start, I should think a desert would be more to my liking. It's got sand anyway."

Grinning, Harry held up his shell to the setting sun. "May I keep this?"

"Don't see why not. We'll start a collection—something from every place we visit."

Harry curled the delicate shell against his palm, his smile an approval.

oOoOo

"You feel all right?" Sirius asked, looking up from the alarm clock on the stand between their beds. "You've gone quiet on me again."

"Just knackered," Harry said as he tugged the blanket over his legs. "Want me to help you with that?"

"I forget you've seen all of this before…" Smiling, Sirius slid the clock toward Harry. "I have no idea how Muggles manage with so many gadgets. Suppose they haven't a choice."

"They'd choose magic if they did," Harry said positively. "Magic is brilliant."

Sirius shimmied out of his dressing gown while Harry set the clock for an early alarm. "When I was younger, I used to wish I could get rid of my magic and just be a Muggle."

"Why?"

"Being magical in the Black family meant a something entirely different than what it means to Ron or Neville. It wasn't until I was sorted into Gryffindor that I realized there were witches and wizards who actually liked Muggleborns and Muggles. And most wizards didn't use magic to hurt others."

"Your family did?"

"Not all of them, but yes," Sirius answered quietly, "my parents did. And my cousins, Bellatrix and her lot. I didn't fully appreciate how much I enjoyed being a wizard until I went to Hogwarts."

Harry considered that, oddly relieved. It was as if maybe Sirius could understand what living with the Dursleys had been like. Almost like his godfather had discovered he was a wizard later in life, just like Harry had.

Sirius was gazing at him. But Harry smiled, wanting somehow for his godfather to understand that he really was all right. He'd never felt better.

He felt safe.

"The alarm is set," he set, jiggling the little black clock.

Sirius gave it a one-eyed squint. "Not sure I want to trust anything with a… what did you call it?"

"Battery," Harry answered, trying not to laugh.

"Yes," Sirius said, nodding as if he'd known all along. "Exactly."

"Well," Harry said, still smirking, "you could charm your watch to wake us up."

Sirius tapped the face of his watch with a fingernail. "Already did. Now," he said in a voice bossy enough to rival Mrs. Weasley, "it's time for bed. I could sleep for a week."

"Then why are we getting up so early?"

"Didn't say I _wanted_ to sleep for a week. I have every intention of eking every last drop of fun out of our holiday." A pause. "How do you work this lamp again?"

"Twist the little key-shaped knob…"

"Oy, you'd think I would remember that."

"You'll get the hang of it," Harry assured him. "I'll show you how to drive that little automobile with no sides."

Sirius' eyebrow flew up. "You know how to drive an automobile?"

"Well, I've seen Ron drive one anyway. Erm… I probably shouldn't have mentioned that."

"Why?"

Harry considered all the possible answers and finally admitted the truth—the shortest possible version, but even so Sirius was gaping at him by the time he finished. "You flew it across Britain? Oy, Harry James…"

Suddenly wary, Harry waited for whatever his godfather wanted to say. Sirius blew out a breath. "You were lucky you weren't killed. Don't ever do anything like that again."

Harry wanted to protest that he had only been twelve, but he nodded instead. "I won't."

"Good grief, I think you've given Minerva more trouble than I ever did." Sirius shook his head. "I think I'm irritated that Remus never mentioned this, but I suppose he didn't want to worry me any more than necessary. What else don't I know?"

"Erm… I won't do any of it again, if that helps?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "It does not. Out with it."

"I thought you were knackered."

But Sirius had abandoned his watch and came to sit on the edge of Harry's bed. "I'm wide awake now." He waggled his fingers toward himself. "Go ahead. And don't leave anything out."

Harry hesitated but he could tell from the expectant expression that Sirius wasn't going to give up. He began reluctantly at first, but by the time he had described his detention in the Forbidden forest as a firstie, the rest came easily, at times in a rush of words; with relief.

And once he had explained how he had planned to go to the Ministry that night Umbridge had Crucio'd him, he felt like ropes had been unbound from his chest.

Until he saw the emotions fighting across Sirius' face.

"I don't know if I should hug you or ground you until you graduate," he finally murmured. "I think I just had several small heart attacks."

"Sorry…"

Sirius shook his head, blew out another breath. "It's hard to believe—" He shook his head again, gripped Harry's knee and looked him right in the eye. "Have you any idea how grateful I am that you're here with me?"

His throat suddenly tighter than it had been a moment ago, Harry nodded. It would be impossible not to know. Not after everything Sirius had done for him.

"Good," Sirius said firmly, "because I don't want you to forget it." He cocked a brow. "Understood?"

"Yeah," Harry said, half-laughing at the stern expression on his godfather's face. Sirius nodded.

"Good boy. Now," he said, reaching out to tousle Harry's hair and smiling when Harry tried to right it again, "go to sleep."

Harry dutifully slid down the mattress until his head was resting on the pillow. His eyes crinkling with amusement, Sirius squeezed his kneecap before crossing to his own bed. He turned off the light, leaving only the moon to illuminate the room.

Harry waited until the sheets stopped rustling and then into the quiet, said, "Hey Sirius?"

"Yeah?"

Harry hoped this would come out right. "Thanks… for bringing me here."

The sheets rustled again and Harry could see Sirius propping himself up. "You're very welcome, but you needn't thank me."

Harry shrugged even though Sirius couldn't see him. "It's really brilliant here."

"A little snorkeling and an exotic fish for dinner and you'll like it even better, I think."

Harry smiled. "Do you think we'll see a shark?"

"We won't see anything if you don't go to sleep…"

Chuckling, Harry brought his blanket up to curl around his shoulder. "All right, all right, I'm sleeping."

"You're _talking_."

Unable to still his grin, Harry squashed his pillow into the perfect shape. "Night Sirius. Promise… I'm done now."

He could hear the laughter in Sirius' voice. "Night, mate."

Smiling to himself, Harry let his mind wander over the last few days… and how much had changed. _Everything_ had changed in just a few weeks. He had a proper family now… and not just as a technicality.

Sighing deeply into his pillow, he imagined the fun they would have tomorrow. This was loads better than Egypt.

And everything was all right now. Voldemort was gone and even if he had these streams inside his head—and a power he didn't really understand, at least Sirius cared enough to want to sort through it with him.

Sirius had spent hours today learning how to do the Legilimency spell, his only reason to help Harry. They'd practiced again when they'd returned from the beach, Sirius managing to hold the spell longer each time.

They'd stood in the streams together for a few seconds, both of them marveling at the vastness. At the power Harry had found in them.

As he drifted, Harry imagined he could hear the whispers of thousands of voices. Voices as soft as the ocean waves. Calling to him. But as he drifted, the voices blended with his dreams.

_TBC…_


	5. We Two

**Chapter Five: We Two**

"Maybe those discs there…"

"Gauges," Sirius murmured, his attention still on the pedals. "One of these has to be the brake… I suppose there isn't any way to find out without getting on with it."

"What if you accelerate us into a tree?"

Sirius glanced up, his lips quirking as he shook his head. "I'm not going to crash, nutter. Did you think I went through all that trouble to keep you alive just to let a tree kill us?"

"No," Harry laughed, "but if you don't know which is the brake…"

"Stop fretting." Sirius straightened and hopped on the seat in front of the wheel. "I never hit a thing on my motorbike."

"You were flying."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Hush and let me concentrate."

Smiling, Harry settled against the seat, more amused by the moment as his godfather pursed his lips and seemed to be going through a checklist in his head; even nodding at the end. "Want me to try?"

Sirius' one-eyed squint answered for him. "Patience, young man," he chided in a convincing imitation of Madame Pomfrey. "All right," he said, straightening before Harry could tell him as much, "we'll just turn the key here… and yes—" The engine roared to life; quietly. "—ah, there we are."

Sirius was grinning like he'd just been awarded the Quidditch Cup. "Listen to that, Harry. Not half as powerful as the motorbike's engine. Your dad and I were convinced there was Romanian Red propelling it. But this… no worries at all."

Since the majority of Harry's experience in an automobile was with Vernon as the driver, he had no difficulty believing Sirius could manage it.

He was flung forward in the next moment though as the little car leapt forward. Sirius' arm caught him across the chest, sending him back against the seat. The car halted just as abruptly.

"Not quite the same as the motorbike," Sirius muttered as he withdrew his arm. "Hold on to something."

Harry tried not to laugh at the serious tone. And instead of telling his godfather that they were going to be going about as fast as a slug, he dutifully gripped the seat and said, "Ready."

Sirius nodded and after another two false starts, they were bumping down the pebbly path toward civilization. And Sirius was once again grinning in triumph. "What did I tell you? I could get used to this…"

"It's not as good as flying," Harry said as they trundled along.

"Nothing is," Sirius agreed with a sigh. "Look at that," he said, pointing out the windscreen. Two stately heron stood at the shore, regal blue statues. "They're lovely, aren't they?"

Harry gripped the side of the door so he could lean out a bit, marveling at just how beautiful the entire scene was. It was hard to believe there was so much he hadn't seen. The Dursleys' backyard didn't exactly boast the most spectacular wildlife.

Not that he hadn't seen some amazing things, if you counted mountain trolls and unicorns.

"Don't fall out," Sirius' voice pulled him from his thoughts. "You'll splatter all over the path."

Harry pulled his head back in, and asked, "How are you going to watch my matches?"

"With my heart in my throat the entire time," Sirius answered without hesitation—and without a trace of humour. "Your mother used to accuse me of not worrying enough," he said with a smile. "We had a few narrow escapes during the first war."

"You and Mum?"

"Mmhm… it was usually your dad and me, but sometimes your mum and I would be sent on a mission together. She nearly killed me the first time."

"Why?" Harry asked, scooting away from the window. Sirius' eyes shone with mirth.

"I may have been a bit… impetuous back then," he admitted. "I didn't always follow Dumbledore's plans to the letter, something your mother found the most egregious of sins. And I preferred an ambush to quietly slipping in and out. Our first time out, I revealed our position far too early and incited a fight we almost didn't make it back from. I managed to get us out and without any harm to your mother but she was furious that I didn't do as Dumbledore asked. Which," Sirius said with a shrug, "she was right about. She socked me as soon as Pomfrey released us."

Harry gaped at his godfather. "Mum _hit_ you?"

Sirius ran his thumb over his chin a few times. "Gave me a charming bruise. And your dad," he sighed dramatically, "was convinced she was sweet on me. He insisted that girls only hit blokes they like. Lily disabused him of that notion, but he was a git to me for days anyway."

When Harry couldn't find an appropriate response to any of that, Sirius grinned. "I eventually shoved him into the lake. Worked a treat."

Smiling slowly, Harry leaned against the seat and shook his head. "You two were mental."

"We were brothers," Sirius said, shrugging.

Harry nodded and let the car crunch the pebbles for awhile before asking quietly, "It must have been really hard when they… when they died."

He watched Sirius' throat ripple and almost took the question back but before he could, Sirius murmured, "That was the worst day of my life. When you're young… you think you're invincible. I thought we were going to live forever."

The car stopped again, not quite so abruptly this time. Down the road, Harry could see a little hut through the windscreen, one with a colourful sign advertising neon goggles but Sirius didn't turn off the car yet. He turned to face Harry, his grey eyes no longer relaxed.

"I remember the way it felt to lose them—which wasn't as horrible when I thought I was losing you," he said, struggling over the words. "I suppose that's why I've morphed into Molly Weasley."

"Pomfrey…"

"Beg pardon?"

Feeling his cheeks beginning to glow, Harry grimaced. "Erm… nothing. I was just thinking you sounded like Pomfrey a few minutes ago."

Sirius raked a hand through his hair; he wore a matching grimace. "That bad?"

But it wasn't bad, not really. But Harry didn't think he could explain so he shrugged. Sirius sighed. "I don't mean to hover—"

"You're not," Harry said quickly. "That isn't what I meant."

Sirius took his hands off the wheel so that all his attention was on Harry. "I am going to be nervous when I watch you fly; there simply isn't any way not to be. I expect most parents worry about their children and with _you_…"

"But Voldemort is gone."

"And that is more of a relief than I can properly explain. But it would be foolish to assume there is no risk to either of us any longer. I'm certain my head would be a prize worth having for any Death Eater."

Goose pimples rose along Harry's arm and he wished more than anything that they were just two normal people on a normal holiday. He didn't want to have to think about Death Eaters and mysterious streams sloshing about in his head. "I'm always going to be the Boy Who Lived," he said quietly, his eyes glued to the thatched roof in the distance. "The Boy Who Lived _Twice_. I can only imagine the idiotic things the _Prophet_ is saying now."

"By the time you go back to school, the fervor ought to have died down."

Harry glanced at Sirius and then back to the hut. "I doubt it. I was the only gossip last September."

"Well, you don't have to return if you would rather not," Sirius said, which had Harry blinking in surprise. Sirius smiled. "We could try for every continent. I've always wanted to visit Africa. We could tame a lion. A lion might like Padfoot."

"A lion might _eat_ Padfoot."

Chuckling, Sirius rumpled his hair. "Unfortunately, you have a point. Besides, you would be terribly bored if you didn't return to school."

"No I wouldn't."

"It will be different this time," Sirius assured him. "The evidence is irrefutable."

"Suppose so…" On the whole though, truth never seemed to matter much.

"Hey," Sirius roused him from his self-pity, "people aren't meant to frown on holiday."

"I know," Harry said, letting a smile in. "The shop is just ahead."

"And I know how much you're looking forward to trying on swimming trunks," Sirius teased.

Harry smiled as his godfather eased the gears into the correct position and steered them the short distance to the shop. "You're getting a new pair."

"Am I now?"

"Yes," Harry said firmly as he leapt from the little automobile and sent up a cloud of dust when he landed. "And a new hat. You need one of those big straw beach hats."

Chuckling, Sirius swung out of his seat, and joined Harry on the sandy pathway. "I refuse to look ridiculous on my own."

"A hat would suit you," Harry said, giving Sirius a scrutinizing eye.

Sirius plucked a long leaf from one of the trees lining the path and with a crooked grin, set it on Harry's head. "Suits you as well…"

Laughing, Harry swatted it away. "Have you ever been in a Muggle shop?" he whispered loudly as he and Sirius took the short set of steps.

Leaning in, Sirius whispered back, "How do you think I got the posters in my bedroom?"

Harry half-smiled. "Oh. Right. Did you buy those with my dad?"

"And Remus. Who did not approve." Sirius pulled the door to the shop open and ushered Harry in.

"Does he approve of anything?"

Sirius snorted. "Here and there. Important things like school books and sensible shoes."

"Hello!" A very excited shopkeeper, with an American accent, greeted them as soon as they cleared the door. "Welcome to the island. You arrived last night, didn't you?"

"Yes," Sirius said, smiling as he took the other man's hand. "I'm Sirius and this is Harry."

"Very glad to meet you. I'm John. Go ahead and have a look around. Anything you need, just let me know!"

"Thank you."

The shopkeeper ushered them past the counter. They halted, dazed by the racks and racks of colourful fabrics, hats, tinted glasses and dozens of things Harry couldn't even begin to put a name to.

"What is _that?_"

Harry peered at the yellow blob on the shelf. "A pineapple?"

"With feathers?"

"Maybe the pineapples fly in Belize?"

Sirius chuckled and tugged Harry's elbow until they were standing in front of an enormous tree with hats sprouting from its branches. "Here we are." Sirius flipped a bright orange hat from a high branch with his fingertips. "I'll be able to spot you from anywhere on the island."

Grinning, Harry plopped the hat on his head and studied his gaudy reflection in the mirror opposite. "I like it."

Sirius laughed in surprise. "Do you? Well then, I'll try this lovely lime one—it even has a feather."

"I think that's a lady's hat, Sirius."

Sirius tilted his head, his own reflection studying the hat with him. "Hmm, we could bring it home for Molly. She might like it."

"That reminds me," Harry said, grinning suddenly and shoving the orange cap into Sirius' hands as he turned. "Gifts for Ron and Hermione. I'll get something for Ginny as well. What do you think she'd like?"

"A pink hat?"

Harry shook his head, tossing a smile over his shoulder. "Don't think she likes pink. Look at these…"

Every animal imaginable—made entirely of tiny shells. Harry weighed a turtle in his palm. "They even have an octopus," he marveled.

"Would you like one?"

Harry glanced at his godfather, who was watching him with a smile. Harry returned the turtle to the display, shaking his head as he moved along. "Oooh, books," he said, pointing to the meager selection. "Hermione would love these. They must have had these for years…" He dusted off the binding of a book about Belize's history. "I'll buy this one for her."

Sirius plucked it out of his hand before he could slip it under am armpit and began flipping through the pages. "She _will_ like this. Did you know there are ancient ruins in Belize?" he asked as he read. "We should visit them. Would you like to?"

"Tomorrow? We're going snorkeling first, yeah?"

"If you ever choose swimming trunks," Sirius drawled, giving him a gentle nudge in that direction. Harry stared at all the choices.

"Er…"

"Orange, to match your hat," Sirius had pinched a pair of bright orange-patterned trunks, stretching them out from the others on the rack.

"I'm not wearing that hat. But yeah, orange is fine."

"Hmm…" Sirius narrowed his eyes at the fabric and then back to Harry. "Size?"

Harry glanced at his trousers. "Dunno." He'd learned a shrinking charm very early in his Hogwarts' career and had managed to simply re-size whatever castoffs the Dursleys had given him from then on.

Sirius frowned, but quickly selected three sizes. His hand hovered near the pocket where he kept his wand, stopping just in time with a grimace. "Keep forgetting… here." He deposited them in Harry's arms and glanced around the shop.

When the shopkeeper caught his eye he hurried over to direct Harry to a tiny room no bigger than the Dursleys' broom cupboard.

"A pair for you as well?" the man asked eagerly.

"Yes," Harry answered for Sirius. He grinned and ducked into the room before Sirius could object. He could hear Sirius trying to tell the shopkeeper he already had a pair, but by the time Harry emerged, Sirius was in the only other dressing room.

"Did any of them work for you?" the shopkeeper asked.

"Oh. Yes, I'll take this one," Harry said, and handed over the other two when the man extended a hand.

The shopkeeper smiled. "And you'd like fins as well, yes? And diving masks? If you're planning on snorkeling?"

"Er…"

"Yes!" Sirius' called from behind the closed door.

With money in his eyes, the shopkeeper ushered Harry to the very large selection of snorkeling equipment. "These are our finest fins," he said, and then suggested Harry try them on. "The mask too. Best way to get a feel for it."

"Oh. Well, erm…"

"We'll take them," Sirius said as he came up behind Harry and draped an arm over his shoulder. "The book and swimming trunks as well."

Beaming, the shopkeeper took the items to the counter, telling them he'd be right back to measure them for fins.

When he was out of earshot, Harry asked quietly, "We don't really need the masks do we?"

Smiling, Sirius answered out of the side of his mouth, "Of course we do. We're just two ordinary chaps on holiday, after all."

The shopkeeper came back then, making suggestions of other things they simply had to have while he measured. Something called flip flops made the list. Sirius accepted with a grin, poring over the hideous green and white-striped ones with relish.

"We'll take these sunglasses as well. And Harry needs a hat," he finally said, adding two pairs of sunglasses to the growing pile.

Laughing, Harry ducked away from his godfather's suggestion of a puce one with flowers. He paused in front of a shelf full of glass domes—with tiny coral reefs inside.

"Those are a favorite," the shopkeeper said as he sidled close. "Can't keep them on my shelves. Go ahead and shake it."

Remembering they were supposed to be two ordinary blokes—and Muggles at that—Harry tried not to betray his confusion as he picked up the dome and gave it a tentative shake. A bit of dust rose up from the bottom.

"Don't be shy," the shopkeeper laughed. "Snow globes are meant to be shaken!" He picked up another and gave it a vigorous shake. Sirius had joined them by then and he watched with fascination as the tiny white flecks obscured the vivid coral scenery. Once the snow had settled, the shopkeeper handed the globe to Sirius and he and Harry sent the snow flying once more.

"Mr. Weasley would love this," Harry said, smiling as he rocked the globe again. "This is cool."

"Add it to the pile," Sirius said. "And one for us as well. Oh, and we still need to find something for Ron and Ginny. We may come back tomorrow if you want to get to the boat."

Harry nodded. "I'll have to look for something really great for Ron. I'm not sure how about the dollars though, so I don't know how much money I'll have left after I buy the book and the snow globe."

Sirius stopped walking so abruptly that Harry had to jump back to avoid his godfather's toes. "Sorry," Sirius said quickly. "You brought money with you? How did you—" He closed his mouth, his eyes darting in the shopkeeper's direction when Harry nodded. Noting the shopkeeper's interested glance, Harry let Sirius lead him by the elbow, away from the counter.

Sirius' voice was hushed as he asked, "How did you exchange your galleons?"

"I asked Hermione to do it for me when she visited. She sent the money with her last letter."

Sirius stared at him, only to finally whisper, "Harry…" He sighed. "You needn't have done that. I don't expect you to pay for anything."

Harry shrugged. "It's all right. I have plenty—"

"Yes, I know," Sirius cut in, frowning just a little. "That vault is your inheritance; your parents never meant for you to use it for living expenses."

"It's only—"

Sirius held up a hand and Harry fell silent. "Do you remember me muttering about job descriptions, taking care of things… an adoption? Sirius asked. "Any of that sound familiar?"

"But—"

"Does it?"

Harry blew out a breath. "Yes."

"Do Ron's parents pay his expenses?"

"Well, yeah, but—"

"And do you think I consider you any less of a son that Molly and Arthur do Ron?"

"No."

"Then why would you imagine I should expect you to pay your own way?"

"It's only a snow globe." Harry had no idea why Sirius scowled.

"You are not paying for it," he said firmly. "You shouldn't even have access to your vault."

Harry gaped at him. _"Why?"_

"_Because_," Sirius said, hands crossing at the chest, "you are sixteen; you're not even sixteen and you have your whole life to worry about your accounts."

"Sirius—"

"We are not arguing about this." Sirius took the snow globe from his hand. "Now come along and let's make our purchases or we won't have enough time to snorkel." He turned and retraced his steps back to the counter, but Harry didn't immediately follow and when he did, he was frowning himself.

"Lovely day for fishing too," the shopkeeper said as he rang up their purchases. He kept up a steady stream of chatter, finally imploring them to come back as soon as possible.

"I think I take my wand for granted," Sirius muttered as they walked down the path. "These are heavy."

Harry only nodded.

"Something the matter?" Sirius asked as he settled the sacks into the back of the automobile.

Harry shook his head, but once they were both in the front seat, he blurted, "What if I need something?"

Sirius paused with his hand on the key, a small sigh interrupting the quiet rustle of the palm trees. "Then you'll have it," he said. "Clothes, your school books, whatever else you want."

Harry's fingertips dented his thighs, his voice higher than he wanted it to be. "But what if—"

"Harry, I promise you—"

"I don't want to give up my key." The words came in such a rush, Harry didn't think Sirius had heard him. Sirius' expression went funny though, an expression that Harry couldn't decipher. But his godfather finally nodded.

"If you want access to your vault, of course you may have that," he said quietly.

Harry's stomach was twisted in awful knots by then, and Sirius' words didn't do a thing for them. He nodded though and mumbled his thanks. Sirius smiled. The engine turned over the first time and they were on their bumpy way down the road once more.

"I don't think I'd care to be a Muggle," Sirius said once they'd passed the heron, neither of which had moved. He caught Harry's eye, smiled again. "I like my wand too much."

Smiling a little, Harry agreed.

"Although," Sirius mused, "that snow globe might just be worth it. And this automobile."

"You're a better driver than Uncle Vernon," Harry said as he watched the ocean and palm trees crawling by. "But then he spent most of the time shouting at the other cars."

Sirius cleared his throat softly. "I imagine that must have been irritating."

Harry glanced at his godfather, shrugging as he turned back to the watch the scenery. "Dudley was worse. When they bothered to bring me along, he spent the entire time pinching me, or whinging that _I_ was pinching him; which I wasn't. The last time I went anywhere in their car—well, before I started Hogwarts anyway—we went to the zoo. I talked to a snake there and made the glass disappear, accidentally. They didn't even know it was my fault, but they locked me in my cupboard anyway."

"Harry…" Sirius' voice was gruff, and Harry realized they'd stopped driving. Their little bungalow was just ahead. "I'm sorry you had to live with them... They never should have…"

"Yeah, I know," Harry said quietly. "They were pants as a family. I probably shouldn't say that since... considering, but sometimes…" he said, his fists clenching again, "I don't think I care that they're dead."

The awful admission caught at his chest, suffocating him. But then Sirius' arms were around him and Harry let out his breath in one great gust.

"They were a wretched family—that's not even a word I want to apply to them," Sirius said in a voice that was still rough around the edges. "I feel exactly the same way about them."

Harry used the words as air to fill his lungs. "I haven't thought about them much; hardly at all."

"You haven't had time to think about them."

"I don't want to think about them. I really hated them," Harry muttered. "I didn't always hate them, but once I went to Hogwarts, it was difficult not to." Even more difficult after Sirius had offered him a home. "I really wanted to live with you."

"I know you did."

Frowning at the regret in his godfather's, voice, Harry pulled back. "Dumbledore wouldn't have let me live with you, I'll bet."

Sirius sighed. "I spent many nights resenting Dumbledore. Rather pointless now, though." He nudged Harry's chin. "I've got you now."

Harry smiled. They sat in easy silence, watching the waves tumble with the shore until Harry said, "You don't have to pay for my things."

"What if I told you how awful it makes me feel that you won't allow me to?"

Harry stilled and when he looked up, he saw the truth of that in Sirius' eyes. "I've always managed everything," he tried to explain after a few moments of silence.

"I know you have," Sirius said, holding his gaze when Harry wanted to look away. "And when you're ready to let me take on all the responsibilities you never should have had, I'm here."

Harry wanted to nod, but his chest was too tight, his stomach too tangled to make sense of anything. Sirius, though, simply kissed the top of his head and with a parting squeeze for his neck, took the key from the ignition and went to gather their parcels from the boot.

It took Harry an extra moment to join his godfather; Sirius was halfway to the bungalow already, but as soon as he fell in step, he took one of the sacks and they walked the rest of the way together.

oOoOo

Harry weighed his vault key in his palm, shaking it lightly while he waited for Sirius to emerge from the loo. It wasn't that he didn't trust Sirius to buy him clothes, and the things he would need for Hogwarts. He supposed his godfather would even give him money for Hogsmeade and everything else—pocket money.

But what if Sirius forgot? Or what if he needed more?

It was just easier for Harry to keep it. Wasn't it?

Except that Sirius wanted to take care of things. And that meant Harry shouldn't need his vault…

The knob on the loo's door turned and Harry curled his fingers over the key, and dropped into in his backpack.

He laughed when the door swung open. "We match," he said, unable to still his amusement.

Sirius grinned. "What? You don't like it?"

"You didn't secretly buy us those orange hats, did you?" Harry asked, giving the parcels on the bed a suspicious glance.

"I am not that cruel. Jiffy up, now. We don't want to lose the wind."

Harry caught the fins and mask Sirius tossed his way. "Do motorboats need wind?"

"Technicality."

"Yeah, but do you know how to work the motor?" Harry pressed as they took the stairs and headed down to the beach.

"This again? There are no trees in the water. And anyhow, we are not going to need the motor." Waggling his eyebrows, Sirius patted his wand pocket. "I'm fairly certain the same charm will work on that motor as my bike."

"Fairly?" Harry echoed, hurrying to keep up with his godfather's longer strides.

"Won't know until we try it." He flashed his best grin as he leapt up onto the boat. "Don't worry," he laughed, giving Harry a hand up. "I promise I won't kill us."

And he didn't.

They made it safely—and quickly—to the reef just off the shore.

"What other types of motors can you charm?" Harry asked as he wrangled with his flippers.

"All of them, I should think. I could probably make this boat fly…" He smiled at Harry's goggling expression. "Be a bit difficult to explain, I suppose."

"Are we using a Bubble-head charm?" Harry asked, straightening.

"Let's give the masks a go first, yeah?" Sirius already had his halfway onto his face. Harry followed suit and the two of them stood at the rail, staring into the blue water.

"Ready?" Sirius finally asked, a note of fresh excitement in his voice; they'd been reading about snorkeling for weeks now, after all. Pulling in a long breath, Harry nodded. "On three, then? One… two… three!"

Wind rushed into water with a mighty splash as Harry sliced the ocean. The feel of it all around him made Harry's heart quicken its pace as memories reared up—of the streams in his mind, and particularly thrashing through them to hurtle Sirius' Killing Curse straight through Voldemort's heart.

But Sirius was here, in absolutely no danger. Harry could see his godfather's legs treading the water. With three quick strokes upward, Harry's head broke the surface. Sirius grinned at him, rivulets of water running down his face and off his chin.

"It's cold!" Harry sputtered.

"It's brilliant!"

Harry could agree with that. "Let's go that way!" He pointed toward the bright pink coral rising from the surface just a meter away.

As they swam, Harry let his face dip into the water, his eyes wide as he spotted a purple bush—an anemone he thought it was called. "Look!" he tried to say but only released a mouthful of bubbles.

Sirius' gaze followed his finger anyway and they watched in fascination as a fish with orange and white stripes poked its head through the tendrils. But only for a moment, before Harry to resurface to fill his lungs.

Sirius cast Bubble-head Charms on both of them before too long; it was more fun to be able to talk about what they were seeing, even if the words were muffled.

"I didn't think fish could be so many colours!" Harry called as a school of rainbow-coloured fish left waves in their wake. "Is that an octopus?"

Sirius grinned as the crept up on the elusive creature. "I thought it would be bigger…"

"And not so flat…"

"Look at that," Sirius said, his voice hushed now as they concentrated. The octopus was slipping into a crevice. They watched it until it disappeared and then turned their attention to a spiny ball that neither of could name. They watched it roll along the sandy floor, followed the progress of a sea star and marveled at the corals as they snagged fish.

And when they staggered off their boat hours later, their breaths uneven, neither could stop smiling.

"I don't think I can move," Harry puffed as he flopped in the sand.

"If you could cast a Featherlight Charm to transport us to the bungalow," Sirius wheezed, "I would be ever so grateful."

"Ha, you cast it."

"Not a hope, mate. My arms don't work."

It used up most of the energy Harry had left to turn his head and grin at his godfather. "You're aces at wandless magic."

"My brain doesn't work either," Sirius drawled lazily. "Hush now and let your old godfather recuperate."

"You're not _that_ old."

Sirius flashed a grin. "Thank Merlin for that." He tangled his fingers behind his head and made a pillow. "We are doing that again tomorrow. And then I am taking you to see the ruins."

Harry made himself more comfortable in the sand. "Can't wait."

**oOoOo**

_Water__. _

_Cool and c__risp; his legs sliced through it with ease, as if he was meant to be here. A part of him, this water. So clear; and bluer than any Harry had ever seen. _

_And all around him, caressing him with whispers of warmt__h. Gliding with him. He closed his eyes and let the voices guide him, to bring him where he needed to be. _

_Needing him, calling him. _

_But it was too cold. Too dark… there__ was nothing for him here. Sirius wouldn't like this; wouldn't like the way the waters wanted him. He could sense Sirius beyond the lazy torrents. _

_Waiting for him. Keeping him from venturing on to where the whispers directed him. So Harry drifted, not quite sure where he belonged—not knowing which way he was needed most. _

_Currents met, chill and warmth until he roiled with them, tossed on their swells. Buoyed until the tendrils o__f water were reaching for him. _

_Stretching until they broke. _

_Droplets splashed him as they were __pulled into the sea. _

_Harry __was washed onto the sand. _

Harry's eyes opened slowly, the dream fading by and by. He blinked as he took in the walls and curtains. The single lamp on its lowest setting. The room where he had fallen asleep; the bungalow he and Sirius were staying in.

Harry pulled in a long breath, anchoring himself to reality. He seldom dreamed of the streams any longer, though he was always aware of them; impossible not to be. As much a part of him as his scar.

Trying to move silently, Harry swiveled his neck, and then frowned when he found Sirius' empty bed. His eyes went to the loo as he pushed himself up on his elbows. But the door was open, no light spilling out.

Scooting all the way up on his seat, Harry combed his uncooperative hair from his eyes to scan the room properly. The glass doors to the patio were standing half-open; the moon's light made a long rectangle on the polished floors.

With his heart giving away his sudden nerves, Harry shoved away the blankets and let his feet fall without sound to the floor, all while his fingers searched behind him for wand and glasses. He knew it was silly to arm himself—no one knew they were here—but that didn't stop him from creeping across the room.

But once he was near the door he could see Sirius through the glass, leaning against the railing; innocuously alone. Feeling foolish, Harry slipped his wand clumsily into his waistband and nudged the door open.

Sirius turned, a smile softening his features as soon as he saw Harry, followed immediately by a frown. "Did I wake you?"

Harry shook his head, and didn't move until his godfather gestured him forward.

"Everything all right?" Sirius asked as Harry joined him at the small railing.

"Yeah—" Harry's eyes fell on the scroll in Sirius' fist. "What's that?"

Sirius' gaze flicked to the parchment; he smiled and held it out to Harry. "It arrived from Shacklebolt an hour ago; adoption papers."

Dreams forgotten, Harry smiled. "Yeah?"

"Have a look, if you like," Sirius suggested. "I've already signed them."

Harry glanced up from unwinding the scroll. "Wait, you've been awake for an hour?"

"Bit more." Sirius turned and leaned his back against the railing, letting his elbows balance him. "I couldn't go to back sleep once they arrived," he explained with another smile. "Go on and read them."

Harry flattened the curled parchment on his knee and read the words more thoroughly than he had read the declaration that Sirius was free, absorbing the formal language.

Adoption.

Something the Dursleys had never thought to do.

Or wanted to do.

Swallowing through the sudden catch in his throat, Harry absorbed Sirius' signature across the first line. _Petitioner for Adoption—Sirius Black_.

"Shacklebolt sent a quill along. In case we didn't know how to use a Muggle pen, I suppose."

Harry looked up to find Sirius rolling the feather in his fingers, his eyes crinkled with amusement. "The language is a bit tricky," he said, gesturing with fluttering fingers to the ink, "but basically it says I agree to take responsibility for your well-being, both physical and emotional. And you agree to allow me to."

His tone was half-teasing, but Harry supposed he could understand that, given their earlier conversations. Until he met Sirius, no one had ever been particularly concerned about his well-being; he still wasn't quite used to it.

"Doesn't sound terrible," he said, smiling when Sirius favored him with narrowed eyes. "Where's the ink?"

"It doesn't need ink."

Even though it was ridiculous, Harry felt a chill run up his spine.

"What's the matter?"

Harry flushed. "Nothing… Sorry, just made me think of Umbridge. That's what she said about her quill," he explained. He reached for the quill, but Sirius' arm had dropped to his side.

"The blood quill?" Sirius' voice was flat, the same tone he'd used when questioning Harry about the mirror.

Harry shifted his gaze. "Yeah."

"You should have told me about that."

Startled at the rebuke in his godfather's voice, Harry's eyes flew up. Sirius was regarding him mildly though, no hint of censure in his face. "I'm sorry," Harry heard himself saying anyway. Sirius sighed and pushed away from the railing.

He folded his arms, the frown in his eyes the only sign of his thoughts. "I wish I knew how to make you trust me," he said quietly, almost to himself.

It took Harry a moment to find his voice. "I do—"

Sirius shook his head. He gestured to the parchment with the crumpled quill. "Do you understand what it means to allow me to take responsibility for your physical and emotional well-being?"

Even though the question sounded rhetorical, Harry answered anyway, "Yes."

"And you don't suppose that someone forcing you to carve words into your own hand merits a mention? Under that definition."

"I didn't have that definition then." Deciding that had probably been too flippant, Harry said quickly, "I would tell you now."

"Would you? So you didn't tell me because you thought I would storm in there and get myself arrested?"

Harry would have said yes, but his godfather's eyes stopped him. The same grey eyes that had held his when Sirius had very clearly told Harry that he didn't appreciate being lied to—twice now.

"I just didn't think you could do anything," Harry said at last, and saw immediately that Sirius wasn't going to accept that.

"Did you even consider telling me?"

Harry rubbed at the back of his neck, falling back easily into a shrug. Sirius' sigh was full of frustration now. "All right," he eventually said. "I suppose I need to be clearer. I want to know if someone hurts you. Is that absolutely clear?"

Even though there was nothing particularly amusing in Sirius' tone, Harry couldn't seem to stop the small smile that sneaked onto his lips. "Yeah," he answered. Sirius frowned at him.

"What's funny?"

"Nothing." Harry straightened his lips. "I'll tell you, I promise."

Sirius eyed him before nodding. "And I don't want you flying in automobiles or battling basilisks–dragons either. Anything larger than a very small kneazle," he amended. "In fact, I would feel better if you would allow me to wrap you in a very mild cushioning charm? No? I suppose the others will have to do then." He aimed the quill at Harry's nose. "Do we have an understanding?"

Keeping his face serious with difficulty, Harry nodded.

"I will hold you to that."

Ominous, those words. Or, at least they would have been if Sirius hadn't been smiling. Still though, there was no mistaking his seriousness. And somehow, that was perfectly all right with Harry. He held up the parchment. "Should I sign it?"

"Nothing would make me happier."

Harry accepted the quill and using the railing as a table, he added his signature. Their names began to glow as soon as he pulled the quill away; the parchment after that and then with a deafening pop, the scroll disappeared.

"Er… what happened?"

"Magical contracts are binding… rather like that ludicrous tournament contract," he muttered. In his normal voice, he added, "It will appear in the hall of records." Suddenly grinning, Sirius gripped his shoulders. "Ha! Do you know what that means?"

Smiling simply because Sirius was, Harry said, "We're a family?"

"No, we were always a family. But now you're officially my child. _Officially_," he repeated, giving Harry a little shake. "It'll be in all the papers by morning, you realize."

And quite cheerfully so, Harry thought with a smile.

"Former Fugitive Adopts Boy Who Lived Twice. Spectacular headline, don't you agree?"

Harry made a face. Sirius chuckled and pulled him in for a lung-squeezing hug. "This is even better than those papers Fudge sent," he said quietly.

Harry's agreement was lost somewhere in Sirius' shoulder.

_TBC…_


	6. Tossed and Drifted

**Chapter 6: Tossed and Drifted**

Harry shook his fringe from his face, pausing to swipe damp hands on his seat before he hopped from one of the large rocks lining the inlet. He landed with a wet squelch, his arms flying out to steady himself. The next rock was smaller—and even more slippery. He concentrated, judging the distance.

He should have just enough room if his legs would cooperate. Taking a deep breath, Harry jumped and nearly toppled himself into the shallow water. Grinning as he pushed his glasses up on his nose, he made a visor with his hand to look out past the secluded cove and over the ocean.

He couldn't see the bungalow from this angle. He hadn't realized how far he'd walked. He'd only meant to drag his feet through the surf just outside the little hut while Sirius was in the shower.

But he couldn't be _that_ far. Their beach didn't stretch on indefinitely.

Not like the water.

Frowning, Harry maneuvered carefully so that he was sitting on one of the larger rocks, teetering only slightly this time. He toed off his shoes and tossed them the short distance to the sand, disturbing the soft grains as they landed at haphazard angles.

Dropping his feet into the cool water, Harry continued to gaze at the waves. The gentle shushing sent him back through weeks-worth of memories just as the dive into the water had yesterday. He had never found water soothing—not the way he did now. But even when he had been terrified in the mental streams, there was comfort there somehow.

_Familiarity._

They were with him constantly now, pressing against him. Which didn't make sense, because they couldn't hurt him as they had before. When they'd snatched Sirius away.

Harry waggled his foot and watched the drops of water as they broke the surface. He dragged his big toe through the leftover ripples, sighing as he tried not to think too hard about the weird dreams he kept having.

Sirius seemed to be having weird dreams as well, or at least he wasn't sleeping much as far as Harry could tell. So maybe it was all right—normal at least.

It had simply been too many weeks spent at the mercy of things out of their control. That's how Sirius had put it.

Harry blinked rapidly as two drops of water splattered against his spectacles. Several more disturbed the calm water. Squinting, Harry turned his face up to the sky, sighed as more drops splashed his chin. At least it was only a sprinkle…

But as soon as the thought materialized, rain began to pelt his face in a great deluge. He scrambled up, slipping twice as he leapt to the next rock; the back of his shirt was already beginning to stick to his back.

"Brilliant," he muttered, taking the next jump at a run. As soon as his foot hit the slick stone, he knew he had misjudged it. "_Shit_."

oOoOo

Sirius pressed his fingers into his cheekbones, deciding he didn't look quite as sleep-deprived as he was. Nightmares plagued his dreams, worse than the months after he'd escaped from Azkaban. No matter that Harry was safe, his mind wouldn't let the possibilities rest.

Too close. Too many times.

Blowing out a breath and not wanting to waste more time with his stomach in knots, Sirius applied a quick drying charm to his damp hair and slipped his wand into its holster. He was looking forward to their day at the ruins; more importantly, Harry was looking forward to it.

Smiling now, Sirius pulled open the door. "You ready?"

But Harry wasn't in the bedroom. Sirius stopped at his bureau and collected a bit more of the Muggle money, just in case. He was finding he was a terrible judge of what things cost.

He frowned when he stepped into the main room. "Harry?" Okay, so he'd been too excited to wait inside. Sirius couldn't blame him for that. Whistling a tune he'd heard somewhere, he jogged down the steps, his eyes scanning the beachfront. "Harry!"

He took a circuit around the small house, his heart skipping too fast by the time he made it back to the stairs. No reason to panic.

The sensible reminder didn't help.

Sirius went back into the house, called his kid's name again but of course he was greeted with silence. From the bedroom, he heard the front door creak. He turned quickly and nearly ploughed into a petite woman.

"Oh," he said, his worry spiking again. "Hello." The maid smiled shyly, a light flush blooming on her cheeks.

"Good morning," she mumbled in her heavy accent. "Should I… come back?"

"What? Oh. No, no, I was just leaving." But before she could scuttle past, Sirius thought to ask, "Did you see anyone on your way here? The young man who was with me yesterday?"

"Your son? No," she answered, eyes darting away. "I am sorry."

Sirius noticed her dripping hair then. "Is it raining?" he asked in surprise.

But he'd already turned to look out the windows that traveled the wall as she answered, "The rains are sudden here… big storms, but they are short…"

Sirius was no longer listening, already making another dash out the door and down the stairs, paying no mind to the drenching rain. "_Harry!_"

Where in the _hell_ was he?

He swore under his breath and considered pulling out his wand, though what he was going to do with it he had no idea. He obviously needed to invent some sort of Where the Bloody Hell is Harry Spell. If he was going to wander off at every opportunity.

Getting drenched. And Sirius hadn't thought to bring along potions to combat pneumonia.

Jogging now, each sandy step was heavier than the last, but Sirius' heart was pumping fast enough that he didn't feel it. He sagged with the weight of his relief when Harry appeared over the crest of a small dune.

Soaked through.

The relief immediately flipped Sirius' stomach and made way for irritation. Scowling, he picked up the pace and called out, "What are you doing?"

He couldn't see Harry's expression through the rainy curtain. And then, just as quickly as it had started, the rain stopped.

"Where have you been?" Sirius demanded. "I've shouted myself hoarse."

Harry blinked behind his spectacles, not seeming to notice his hair was pouring a river into his eyes. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I didn't mean to go so far…"

Sirius was close enough now to see that not only was Harry sopping, he was limping. Irritation thoroughly stripped, Sirius closed the space between them in two strides and caught a shoulder. "What happened?"

"Fell off a rock." Water was still dripping into Harry's eyes.

"You were climbing rocks?"

"Jumping over them."

Frowning, Sirius slipped off Harry's glasses and pushed the sloppy fringe off his forehead. "You all right? You're limping."

"Just grazed my knee. Think I bruised my hip or something. I fell sort of sideways."

Sirius tipped Harry's chin up, frowning as he studied Harry's pupils; his mouth pinched with pain. "Did you hit your head?"

Harry squinted up at him. "Not very hard."

Sirius circled his fingers over Harry's scalp. "Here?" Brushing a hand over Harry's hair, he smiled gently. "Any particular reason you were leaping over rocks?"

"Not really."

"If you wanted to fly, you should have brought your broom along…"

Harry didn't even smile at the teasing. Worried at the silence, Sirius said quietly, "Let's go inside then and I'll have a look." He kept his voice light as he added, "Growing new skin is simple enough, but we'll make certain you didn't sprain anything, yeah?"

"Just banged up a bit," Harry said quietly; his breathing was too shallow though.

Sirius wound an arm round Harry's ribs. "Put your arm round my shoulders. No reason to make it worse." But Harry didn't even protest, simply following Sirius' order and allowed himself to be helped back to the bungalow at a crawl.

"We'll have you in top form in short order," Sirius promised as Harry hobbled up the stairs, wincing and trying not to the entire way. "Dry clothes first, and then we'll see about that knee."

"Right."

The maid was still cleaning when they went inside. Sirius smiled at her when she turned around; she immediately blushed scarlet. "Sorry to interrupt you," he said as he ushered Harry in. "Would you mind returning a bit later? And actually, if it isn't a bother," he added, since he'd meant to yesterday evening, "I think we will be just fine without a cleaning every day. If we might have enough supplies for duration, that would be perfect."

The maid nodded clumsily and began gathering her things together. A shy smile for them as she hurried past and a whispered, "I am happy you found your son…"

Harry's face relaxed for just a moment, a quick smile lighting his face as he caught Sirius' eye but just as quickly he was grimacing again.

"Come along now," Sirius said, scooping up clothes from Harry's bureau and aiming a drying charm at his shivering godson as he did.

Once Harry was chivvied inside and Sirius had swiped the potions kit from the counter, he found himself dry clothes and began sorting through the elixirs and balms they'd brought along.

oOoOo

Harry's gazed at the stack of clothes sitting patiently on the edge of the bath. He'd only managed to pull a sleeve half off. His ribs were alternating between an annoying ache and pinpricks of fire. But it was his thumb prohibiting him from undressing.

He hadn't realized he'd done quite this much damage after he'd plummeted head-first into the water. He'd managed to keep his head from being completely smashed on a rock, which would have been brilliant if he hadn't sacrificed his thumb to the effort.

It was beginning to throb in time to his heart.

Fucking, stupid rocks.

He blinked blearily at the door when a light rap broke the silence.

"Harry?" his godfather's voice called softly. "You all right?"

Shrugging his shirt nearer to his shoulder, Harry muttered, "Yeah…" The response was met with silence.

And just as he was wishing he'd answered differently, Sirius' voice asked, "You decent? I'm going to come in, all right?"

"Yeah," Harry echoed through gritted teeth. He hunched over and tried to tell himself it was quite normal to have a thumb parted halfway at a ninety-degree angle.

He watched the bottom corner of the door sweep open, and then Sirius' feet crossing the tiles quickly. "Harry?" Sirius dropped down just in front of him, his hands immediately framing his face. "What's—" A sharp breath and Sirius was whispering, "Your thumb… Why didn't you tell me?"

Harry couldn't really decide on an answer but Sirius didn't wait for one anyway.

"All right, here… I don't think…" Sirius brushed a thumb over Harry's cheek, but he didn't seem to be able to complete a sentence either. "That must hurt… of course it does, _Accio_ potions kit."

The kit knocked the propped door and thumped into Sirius' palm. "Here, easy now," Sirius murmured as he gripped the back of Harry's neck and put a vial at his lips. "Drink it for me, all right? I know it tastes awful… Snape's potions are worse than Pomfrey's." He smiled, but it was strained.

"Awful, yeah," Harry mumbled, failing miserably to play along.

Squeezing his neck, Sirius said quietly, "Breathe. Just try to relax, I know it hurts. The potion will only take a moment."

Harry swallowed and tried to nod but his head was throbbing now too. And his ankle. His thumb looked like a sausage. Blinking rapidly now, he ordered the prickling in his eyes away. He'd had worse

Much worse.

Sirius' hand was smoothing his hair over and over now. "Don't worry about it, love. Of course it hurts."

Startled, Harry brought his eyes up. Sirius' face was pinched, his eyes full of worry, but he didn't even seem to notice he'd spoken. He smiled again. "Better?" he asked. "Is the potion working?"

"A little," Harry said, and it was easier to breathe now. He felt less like he was going to sick up all over his godfather's shirt.

Sirius' chest heaved quietly. "Thank Merlin… let me see that, yeah? Don't try to move, you're perfectly all right," he promised. "I'm right here… I'm going to perform a diagnostic with my wand but I don't think it's broken. I've never seen a break look like that and I've seen my share of broken bones…"

The diagnostic spell weaved an orange haze around Harry's thumb, wound down his wrist and arm. "Oy," Sirius muttered as it pulsed. "How in the world did you manage to dislocate your thumb and not notice? I think that's what that means. I'm not exactly a healer… Does it hurt at all? Not even a little?" he asked when Harry shook his head.

"Can tell I hurt it," Harry admitted. "Like an echo."

A breath escaped his godfather's pursed lips. "I don't think I can fix that on my own… A break I could manage. A simple _Episkey_ would do it, but this, I am not sure a spell exists, Remus dislocated his shoulder once and Pomfrey had to sort it out manually, and it took quite a bit of concentration on her part…"

Sirius set his lips again and sat back on his heels. Harry had never heard him talk so much. Not all at once.

"Your ankle," Sirius said. "Let's have a look; that at least we can fix right here."

"But if you can't fix it—"

"I'll find someone who will," Sirius interrupted firmly. "I can't leave you with a crooked thumb, can I? Let me take care of that ankle and your knee. Make certain everything else is in order."

Harry winced as Sirius cradled his injured foot.

"Sorry…" Sirius wove another spell over the ankle, this one with a silvery haze. "Isn't broken," he muttered. "Another potion," he added, grimacing apologetically as he found the one he was looking for. But Harry drank it without protest, and even waited patiently while his godfather wet a flannel and cleaned his bloodied knee.

A spell for that as well. "Heals the skin faster," Sirius explained. He put his wand away, and gestured to Harry's middle. "Just a quick look at your ribs, then?"

Harry tried to straighten, but Sirius put a hand on his shoulder, keeping him in place as he lifted the shirt away and pressed his fingers cautiously over his ribs. "Does that hurt? Just a bit sore?"

He nodded, walking his fingers to Harry's other side, but that didn't smart at all so Sirius brought his wayward sleeve down and let Harry slide his arm back into it. "All right?"

A tickling throat joining the mix of grievances, Harry only nodded.

Sirius scooped the potions kit up with one hand and put the other round Harry, just under his armpits. "Up you go," he ordered softly. "Does that ankle still smart?"

"No."

Sirius helped him out of the loo anyway, transferring a hand to Harry's elbow as they crossed the bedroom. "Where are your trainers? Actually, those flip flops will work better, I think. Muggle ingenuity, eh?" He summoned the funny shoes and very slowly they made their way to the auto.

oOoOo

"Of course, of course," the shopkeeper assured them, after a soft tut for Harry's thumb. "My wife is the best doctor around. She won't mind at all." He waved off Sirius's second round of gratitude and scurried behind the counter. He smiled reassuringly at them as he picked up the telephone receiver from its cradle.

"Any pain yet?" Sirius asked, creating a shield between Harry and the shopkeeper. "The minute you feel any discomfort," he whispered, "tell me and I'll slip you another potion. The medicines the doctor gives you won't do a thing for you; they won't be harmful," he added, though Harry had already known that. He'd nicked aspirins from Aunt Petunia's cupboards a few times, but they'd never helped.

Sirius put an arm round Harry's shoulders when he nodded, both of them quieting as the shopkeeper spoke into the telephone.

"Not sure," he was saying. "Might be broken… swollen, yes…" His eyes flicked up, frowning a little. "Teenager… yes, with his father. OK, yes, I'll tell them. Thanks, Mara."

"She's just finishing up with a patient," he said, smiling as he set the telephone down. "It'll only take a few minutes to drive this way once she's done."

Squeezing Harry's shoulder, Sirius thanked the shopkeeper. "Do you have a chair?" he asked, after a glance at Harry.

"I'm all right," Harry tried to say, but his godfather shushed him even as the shopkeeper shook his head regretfully.

"There's a comfortable stump outside," he told them. "We had to cut down one of the palms last year. Let me get you some water." He ducked behind the counter, brought out a plastic bottle full of water and assured them again that his wife would arrive swiftly.

Harry held his hand away from his body as he slouched on the stump—which was thankfully not in the shade. His bones felt like they'd been dipped in ice.

Sirius was crouched in front of him again. He touched the back of his fingers to Harry's cheek. "You're whiter than Binns," he said, trying a smile but even without his senses soaked in pain, Harry couldn't seem to concentrate well enough to find that funny. "Oy… Might have to Obliviate our friend in there," Sirius said under his breath. "Even without the pain, your body knows it's there… you're certain you don't feel any aches?"

Harry shook his head, watching through a fog as Sirius glanced over his shoulder, but the shopkeeper wasn't in the window. He slipped is wand out and with the skilled movements of one schooled in subterfuge, he chanted a warming charm over Harry, followed by an unfamiliar spell aimed at Harry's temple.

"That should help. I'm sorry I couldn't sort your thumb myself," he said as he sat back again; his wand was out of sight once more. "I should have thought this through better…" His cheeks puffed with his sigh. "I had a letter from Remus this morning."

Harry frowned as he followed the change in subject. "Something happened?"

Sirius smiled. "Everyone is just fine. He was checking on you. And me. Remus worries too much; his best subject at Hogwarts. Of course, your dad and I gave him plenty of reasons to worry—mostly about detentions and threats of expulsions or imminent maiming. Honestly though, he would have been bored to tears without us and who wants that, eh?"

"Maybe he did," Harry said, cracking a smile.

"Absolutely not. And you know what I'm on about, what with your flying autos and dragon slayings—"

"I never slew one…"

"Right, that was the basilisk," Sirius sighed. "I should probably think of some awful punishment to deter you from such behavior this September. Maybe Molly has some ideas," he added with a wink. "I bet that woman is chock full of horrible punishments."

"She writes a mean howler."

Sirius chuckled. "That's easy to believe."

The sound of pebbles crunching cut off Sirius' next thought. He twisted and then stood in one fluid movement, one hand moving to Harry's shoulder. "Hello," he greeted someone that Harry was too tired to find.

"Mr. Black?" a woman's voice with only a hint of a Spanish accent queried. "I'm Dr. Owens, John's wife."

Harry lifted his eyes enough to see Sirius extend his hand. "Sirius. And this is Harry. He fell. His thumb is dislocated, I think. It doesn't look broken—"

The doctor murmured something that Harry couldn't hear and then was kneeling in front of him. "Hello Harry," she said, her soft voice nothing like Pomfrey's. "How are you feeling?"

"All right," he answered. As long as he didn't look at his thumb.

Her dark eyes crinkled as she smiled. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"Erm, well…" He felt silly telling the story again. But he did with a grimace as he remembered how he'd just sort of stared at his thumb as he'd sat in the cold water.

"You landed on it?" the doctor asked.

"Yes ma'am."

She nodded and straightened. "On a scale of one to ten," she asked as she slipped stretchy gloves on," how much would you say it hurts?"

"I gave him a pain reliever," Sirius murmured. His hand had gone back to resting on Harry's head.

Dr. Owens turned to him. "What did you give him?"

"Aspirin," Harry supplied when Sirius hesitated. The doctor nodded.

"I think your dad is right; your thumb is dislocated, which is very common in an accident like the one you described. I'll need to put it back in place. You'll need something stronger for the pain; just a quick shot—"

"Shot?" Sirius echoed.

Dr. Owens squinted as she glanced at Sirius again. "Oh. You're British? A jab, I think you'd call it. It will only take a minute, the needle will just feel like a quick sting—"

"Needle?" Sirius repeated in alarm. His throat bobbed when the doctor frowned at him. "I've given him medicine…"

"Yes," Dr. Owens said patiently. "But putting the thumb back into place will be quite painful without something stronger. A very small needle," she added. "If you're squeamish—"

Harry managed to catch his godfather's eye. Sirius swallowed again but he nodded as he smoothed Harry's hair. "Right," he said to the doctor. "Of course you know what you're on about. Needles..." A strained laugh and a shrug. "Well, you know… squeamish."

She looked between them, frowning slightly. Sirius smiled and she turned back to Harry. "Are you ready?"

Harry nodded, though his entire body had tensed. He'd seen Dudley get a jab once—when they were four. Dudley had screamed himself hoarse when the nurse had come near him; she and Aunt Petunia had had to chase him all over the tiny office and once they'd caught him, Harry was certain they were trying to murder him.

The nurse had come for him next.

None of them had understood how each of the three needles they'd brought out had become bent—and completely unusable. Aunt Petunia had bustled him out of there before they could bring a fourth, with Dudley's fat tears still rolling down his cheeks. Scrunched in the other corner of the backseat, Harry had had to listen to her high-pitched scolding all the way home.

_If you can't control your freakishness for even five minutes, __you ungrateful brat, you can just hope a horrible disease doesn't kill you_, she'd snapped. And then she'd slammed the car door, leaving him to eventually find his own way inside.

She'd never taken him to the doctor again.

"Harry?"

Harry blinked at the doctor. "Yeah," he said, hating the hoarseness of his voice. "I'm ready."

Sirius' hands settled on his shoulders and Harry told himself sternly that he wasn't four any longer and he was quite in control of his magic. He hadn't had a bout of accidental magic in years—and he wasn't going to start now.

Sirius bent close and muttered in his ear, "You won't feel it. Pain potion…"

Harry nodded. The doctor was tapping her fingernail against the syringe she'd brought out of her case. Harry tensed and before he could do a thing about it, he felt the magic coil in his core and then the doctor was frowning at her needle.

"Now, how did that… Sorry," she apologized with a sigh. "I've no idea how a damaged needle could have… I'll just get another."

"Stupefy," Sirius said under his breath. Harry twisted his neck to stare at his godfather. He wasn't even holding his wand; and the doctor had frozen.

"What are you…?"

"You don't actually need a jab," Sirius murmured, though he wasn't even looking at Harry. He glanced quickly at the shop—the shopkeeper was ushering a new customer inside. Sirius took the new syringe from the doctor, frowned at it for a moment and then Vanished the liquid from inside its chamber.

He glanced at the shop again, stepped around the doctor to block any unwelcome eyes and with his wand this time, muttered a string of Latin that Harry couldn't follow. "Don't worry," he said quickly to Harry and then took his place behind him again. "Finite."

The doctor smiled at Harry. "You did very well, Harry," she said as she turned to put the needle in a red plastic box. "Now," she said, "we'll just give the medicine a minute to work. Besides the thumb—" She smiled. "—are you enjoying your visit to the island?"

"Very much," Sirius answered when Harry didn't. He listened to the doctor's questions about where they were staying as he wondered if Sirius had known he had bent the needle.

"Do you feel any pain in your thumb, Harry?"

Dragged back to the present, Harry shook his head. Sirius squeezed his shoulders again as the doctor explained what she was going to do—the thought of her even touching his thumb made Harry feel vaguely nauseous again. He nodded anyway.

He grit his teeth and slid his eyes to the wide swath of ocean he could see.

"I think I'd like to watch a programme on the telly this afternoon," Sirius' voice startled him.

Beside him once more, this time kneeling beside the stump, his godfather smiled at him. "We haven't done that yet," he said as he took Harry's free hand in his own, sandwiched it between both of his.

"A boy in our year, Barnaby Hunley, used to go to the Mug—to the theater each summer; he had to sneak out since his parents didn't approve—they were rather like Malfoys' parents. We all thought he was mad, of course. But that didn't stop your dad and me from trying it ourselves." He smiled. "Your granddad took us as soon as he discovered what were up to. We saw The Mousetrap; Barnaby didn't seem so mad afterwards."

Harry smiled. "Did you go with them again?"

"No, but we did sneak into a cinema once. To a picture your granddad would not have approved of."

"We're finished," Dr. Owens interjected. Harry and Sirius turned to her.

"Already?" Harry warbled.

Dr. Owens was smiling at them. She lifted Harry's hand for inspection. "Bend it for me," she suggested. After a hesitation, Harry did. "All your fingers now. Make a fist." She nodded. "Good. It will be swollen for another day," she told them. "And you should not put any strain on it while it is healing, but the joint is back in place."

And it was. As straight as it had been before Harry took a dive into the rocks. It was still as swollen as a banger though.

"I will give you some medicine to help with the swelling," the doctor said as she dug into her satchel. "And you'll want him to rest," she said to Sirius. "After a trauma, it's normal for patients to be drowsy." She handed him a small packet. "He should take one when you return to your bungalow, and then another in six hours. With a small meal," she added.

"Thank you," Sirius said.

"You're welcome," she said warmly. "I'll give you my telephone number in case you need me." She wrote a set of numbers on a small pad, ripped off the top sheet and handed it to Sirius. "No, that won't be necessary," she said when Sirius asked her fee. "It was my pleasure. It was very nice to meet you," she addressed both of them. "Be careful."

Sirius thanked her again, and smiling still, she turned and went down the little path to the shop's front door, presumably to see her husband.

"May I see?" Sirius asked, frowning in concentration as he pinched Harry's wrist, eventually sighing and quirking a crooked smile. "I was a bit worried you'd go through life with a thumb at right angles."

"Me too…"

Sirius curled his fingers around Harry's kneecap. "Next time you take a stroll by yourself, leave me a note, eh? I didn't like not knowing where you were this morning. And if you hadn't been able to walk back, I wouldn't even have known where to start looking."

"I will," Harry promised with a grimace. "I didn't mean to cause so much trouble—"

"I'd like a note because you're sixteen and I'm the spitting image of Pomfrey," Sirius corrected. "Taking you to get fixed up wasn't any trouble at all. You are never a bother, understood?"

Harry nodded, suddenly drained now that he was no longer focusing on the phantom pain. Sirius combed the hair at his temple for a moment before saying quietly, "Let's get you home and into bed."

Harry was yawning by the time he slid into the auto. Sirius climbed in after him. "I'll go slowly," he promised. "A lovely change from your broom," he added as he steered away from the shop and onto the pebbly road. "If you're feeling better in the morning, we'll go to the ruins then. Something nice and dry; reckon you've had enough water for a few days."

Harry yawned again and dropped his head against the seat, which actually wasn't very comfortable.

"We haven't built a sand castle yet," Sirius continued. Wishing he had a pillow, Harry shifted. "I used to build them with my brother, which was fun, but since you probably won't drown my efforts in seawater, it will be even more fun with you."

Smiling, Harry shifted again and finally propped his head on Sirius' shoulder.

"We should have thought to bring shovels and pails," Sirius said, his voice quieter now. "Maybe we'll find some in the shop; spend enough money to pay Dr. Owens' fee. She was nice, even if I don't much care for her needles. Your magic was quite clever to respond that way. I would have bent the needle as well, though I would have done it on purpose. I had no idea Muggles were so barbaric…"

Harry yawned again, deciding Sirius' shoulder was at least as good as a pillow. He closed his eyes and let his godfather's voice drift.


	7. Overcome

**Chapter 7: Overcome**

"What are they _doing_?"

Harry glanced sideways at his godfather, and had to smile at the crumpled brow and bent posture. As if he could figure out what the people on the telly were doing simply by leaning closer.

"They're shooting teddy bears?" Sirius muttered. He leant in until the patterns of light were dancing on his face. "Big teddy bears…"

"Why do they live in the forest?" Harry wondered, only squinting since Sirius had just scolded him for moving too much.

"And flying on… what _are_ those?"

"Motorbikes without wheels?" Harry guessed.

Sirius grinned. "We ought to find one."

Laughing, Harry said, "It isn't real. I mean, Muggles don't talk to gold robots."

Sirius sighed and plopped back against the cushion. "Bad job, that. We wouldn't even need to charm it to fly. Oy," he let out a breath and snapped his fingers, "the popcorn! Do you still want it?"

"You don't know how to use the popper."

"If I can drive an auto, I can certainly sort out a popcorn maker."

"Want me to show you—" Sirius' palm flat on his chest stopped his upward motion.

"I do not," he said, pushing him gently back. "You are not to move." He cocked an eyebrow, which secured a solemn nod from Harry. And a smile when his godfather's back was turned. He settled more comfortably into the pillow and turned his attention back to the telly.

The teddy bear people were preparing to sacrifice the heroes. His attention was pulled away from the fire pits though when he heard a staccato rush of metallic plinks.

He could see Sirius pouring corn kernels into the heavy cast iron pan from the kitchen cupboards. He smiled when he looked up and caught Harry's eye. "Thought it might be more fun to do it the way your grandmother used to do it. Fireplace," he explained, gesturing with the pan as he swung it off the counter and padded back to the bedroom.

Propping up with an elbow, Harry watched his godfather kneeling on the stone hearth. "She used to make popcorn for us at the weekends," Sirius said. "She let me help her sometimes; after she figured out that I'd never done it before. My parents were never keen on anything so Muggle." He tossed a smirk over his shoulder. "Especially something invented by _American_ Muggles._"_

"How will you keep it over the fire?"

Sirius brandished his wand and sent a simple levitating spell at the pot, then cast another, unfamiliar spell. "To keep it hovering in place. And another, ingenious little spell of your grandfather's to make it spin—the kernels need to move." Sirius sat back on his heels, nodding when the flames began to lick the iron. "There we are. It will only take a few minutes."

He nudged Harry's feet away from the end of the sofa to reclaim his place.

"I think Mrs. Weasley made popcorn that way once. I didn't see her but I suppose she must have." He smiled at the first kernels exploded inside their cocoon. "I haven't had any since then."

"Decades for me," Sirius told him with a sideways look. "Think it will be as good as we remember?"

"If your spells are any good."

Sirius swatted his foot, a playful scowl on his face. "Next time, you'll make it."

Not much of a threat, Harry smiled at his godfather. Sirius returned it and together they listened to the pops as they gathered speed. Sirius went back to the fire after a few minutes, summoned a bowl from the kitchen and sent a cooling spell at the iron's handle and then plucked it from the fire.

Grinning as soon as he'd removed the lid, he held it out for Harry's inspection. The familiar scent greeted Harry's nose. "Smells just like I remember."

And it tasted even better.

oOoOo

"How are you feeling?" Sirius asked once they had scraped the bottom of the popcorn bowl. "Any aches?"

"No." Only half joking, Harry asked, "But what are we going to do if we run out of potions?"

"We won't. Snape lives in our library, remember? He gave me enough potions to last at least a month."

Harry's smile didn't last. He flicked at one of the half-popped kernels. "What is he going to do? What if it's never safe to leave?"

"Never is a terribly long time." When Harry didn't smile that time, Sirius sighed. "Honestly, kid, I don't know. I owe him more than I can possibly repay. And yet, I'm not certain there is anything I can do for him. "

"Even if we…"

But Sirius shook his head. "Shacklebolt isn't particularly encouraging on that point. Snape was a Death Eater, and that won't be easily forgiven."

His own feelings about Snape still tangled up, even after everything, Harry pursed his lips. "And Mum and Dad… Pettigrew told the Ministry about that, didn't he?"

"Yes," Sirius answered softly. "He told them entirely too much." He let his head fall against the cushion, and closed his eyes. "If we could forgive him that, surely the Ministry has no business holding a grudge, eh?" The words were meant to be humourous, Harry thought, but they fell flat.

"Do you forgive him for my parents?" he asked after a moment. Sirius opened his eyes.

"Sometimes I do," he answered heavily. "He saved my life more than once. And yours. But if he hadn't told Voldemort the prophecy we never would have been in those situations. The same can be said about my going after Pettigrew though."

"And my not opening that mirror. And getting caught by Umbridge."

Straightening up, Sirius said firmly, "You had only good intentions, which is not the same as Snape's mistakes."

"I know," Harry sighed. "I _do_."

Sirius' eyebrow relaxed only marginally. "You are not responsible for what happened. Not for any of it."

"But even if Snape _is_—at least a little—he can't stay trapped in Grimmauld Place for the rest of his life."

"I will think of something." Sirius' promise was met with a yawn from Harry. "But for now, it's late."

The reminder never failed to bring a smile to Harry lips, although he had no idea why. He shifted a little to find a more comfortable spot on his pillow. "Is it all right if I sleep here?"

"Mushed the pillows perfectly, have you?"

Harry's answer was a grin. Sirius chuckled and pushed himself up. "Wake me if you need me," he said quietly as he bent to drop a kiss on the top of Harry's head.

"I will."

With a smile, Sirius switched off the light near Harry's head. Harry waited until he'd crossed to his bed before asking, "Do you think someone else would have told Voldemort about the prophecy? If Snape hadn't?"

Sirius paused in unclasping his watch. "I don't think anyone else knew about it except Dumbledore." When Harry didn't respond, he said, "It's hard not to wonder what might have been, isn't it?"

Swallowing, Harry nodded. "Yeah."

Sirius finished with his watch and sat on the bed. "Your parents weren't safe even before Snape heard that prophecy."

"I know." Harry twisted a little to let his palm cradle his cheek. He had no idea why he'd even started this conversation, but Sirius waited patiently. And eventually Harry spoke again, "He's partly responsible for my parents' dying. I know that and it makes me really angry. But then…" He flexed his recovering thumb, eyeing it in the low light. "And I know it's different, Sirius, but Voldemort is dead because of us."

Sirius crossed back to the sofa, perching himself on the edge when Harry scooted over. "It's feels awful, I know," Sirius said quietly.

Ignoring the tickle in his sinuses, Harry let his fingers grip when Sirius took them. "It feels like it shouldn't be. He was going to kill you."

Sirius' sad smile eased some of the ache in Harry's throat. "I think it's all right to not to regret it entirely," Sirius said. "And you didn't just save me. Voldemort was never going to stop."

OoOoO

It was a long time before Harry fell asleep. He'd been listening to Sirius moving around the room, opening a drawer or two. Listening to the rush of water from the tap.

Water that was warm and heavy, always with him. Rolling and moving with him. Around and through all at once. As much a part of it as his limbs were to his body.

The water _was_ him.

Smiling lazily, he trailed his fingers through the ocean. It was peaceful in here. Safe.

As always, he could feel his godfather's presence. Hermione and Ron as well. All the Weasleys, distinct and yet part of one another. Snape and Remus were there, both very much separate from one another—Snape from all of them.

Except he wasn't.

Harry swam forward, probing the familiar, cold stream. He wondered if there would ever be a time when his professor wasn't nearby. Marveled that it didn't seem strange to have him there. But Snape's stream was tangled with his—had been since the beginning of this.

Linked forever now.

Because Snape wasn't really supposed to be here, was he? And it was only because of Harry that he remained.

_My life is not yours to save…_

The memory of Snape's words echoed through the water, disturbing it as it crowded close.

So eagerly Snape had decided death was the only option. Perhaps not eagerly, but it hadn't been normal. As if his life meant nothing more than the sacrifice.

But of course Sirius had willingly risked his life for Harry. And Harry would do the same for his godfather—maybe even for Snape.

Comforted by that thought, Harry smiled again and let the streams wash over him, surround him until the darkening water tucked him in its embrace. Familiar voices washed over him, but these ones didn't belong to Sirius. Or to the Weasleys. His friends either.

But they were with him constantly now. None of them distinct, but blended with the shushing waves. They beckoned him forward, and even knowing he shouldn't go to them, Harry went. They needed him, these voices.

And the echoes carried him along the currents, spinning him in the blackness. But it wasn't empty here, but full of life.

_Here… _

_Please… _

The echoes drew him close, drew him into the strangled stream. One very distinct from the rest. Drawing away from the others it was tangled with. Just as Remus' had the day that Harry had nearly killed him.

Recoiling, Harry propelled himself backward.

_Please…_

Letting his breath steady him, Harry crept forward. Strangled and dying, that stream. Drying up. Dying.

Harry dipped his hands into the stream, so hot it burned him. But the moment he touched it, the stream reacted. Waves rose up, leapt at Harry, covering him and bringing him into blackness again. Drowning him.

Struggling against the pitch and roll of the dark waves, he tried to disengage. The stream fought him, clung to him even as it continued to bleed away. Blind in the dark and the wet, Harry threw himself backward and came up gasping.

"Harry?"

Sirius was hovering over him and it took Harry a long moment to realize they weren't inside his own head.

Crouching beside the couch—_he'd been sleeping on the couch_—Sirius touched his shoulder. "You all right?"

"Dunno…" Shook his head. "Yeah. Nightmare."

"Voldemort?"

Harry didn't answer immediately. Mostly because he didn't know how to explain what it felt like to drown when there was no water in sight. "No," he finally muttered. When he sat up, Sirius took an elbow. A wave of dizziness hit him then. Harry let his head forehead rest in his hands and closed his eyes as the sensation faded; Sirius took up position beside him.

"Want to talk about it?"

Harry glanced sideways at his godfather, who honestly didn't look much better than when they had left Grimmauld Place. Not for the first time, Harry wondered if nightmares plagued him as well.

"I was dreaming about the streams," Harry told him. He grimaced as Sirius' eyebrows drew together. "It wasn't on purpose."

Sirius frowned. "You don't usually dream about them, do you?"

"A few times since we came."

Sirius' silence ate at his chest. "What exactly are you dreaming?" he finally asked.

Harry glanced at him again. "Being in the water… in the streams." He shrugged. "With different people, I guess."

"Which people?"

"You, the Weasleys… Snape."

"We're in your _night_mares?"

"No," Harry said quickly and then wished he hadn't; his lungs hurt. "Just… I dunno," he mumbled.

Sirius kneaded the tense muscles at the back of his neck. "It's all right. I'll fetch you a glass a water—"

"S'allright," Harry said, already pushing up, but before he was even standing fully, the dizziness assaulted him again. He grasped at empty air, but Sirius circled his bicep before he could stumble.

"Harry?" Grabbed the other one as well and lowered him back to the cushion. What happened?"

Harry drew in a slow breath; it was an effort to focus on his godfather's anxious features. "Yeah. Just… stood up too quickly."

Sirius released one of his arms to push the fringe from where it was clinging to Harry' eyebrow. "Are you in pain?"

Harry squinted as he thought about that, took a moment to glance at his thumb. Most of the swelling had faded. He felt a bit achy all over, but he supposed that was normal after careening head-first into a pile of rocks. "Just tired," he eventually decided. Sirius considered him, gripped the back of his head lightly and nodded. He plucked Harry's glasses from the table and held them out.

"You stay here," he said, with a finger aimed at Harry's nose to emphasize. Harry smiled a little and made no effort to move again. He watched as his godfather went through to the kitchen, listened to the shushing water as the tap was turned on.

A single stream of water, just like the one in his dreams. Closing his eyes, and ignoring his conscience, Harry probed the dark oceans. They were turbulent, just as they had been in his dream. But it was almost without effort that he found the stream again.

It was still struggling.

_Please…_

As soon as he stepped close, the stream leapt at him, desperate and dark. Scalding him.

Instinctively, he reared back. And then he stayed immobile as the waves roiled around him, surged forward and back to mirror his own movements. And as the tiny stream curled in on itself, Harry crept forward once more.

It burned him as it licked at his skin. Almost gone, that stream. Feeble and strangled.

Just like Remus'.

Summoning the constant streams beside him, his godfather and the Weasleys; Remus, and Snape, Harry breathed deeply and let their strength fill him. To fill the void of that lonely stream.

Like a magnet, those streams. They drew others that had begun to let go of the drying stream. Drew them until they were a swell to sweep the tiny stream into their embrace.

The stream burgeoned with the water, swollen and full of light. No longer burning Harry from the inside.

With exhaustion suddenly making his muscles slow, Harry pulled away. The stream brushed his cheek, leaving a patch of soft warmth before it slipped from his grasp.

His motions were dull—staid—as the ocean waves swayed him once more. Drifting like wood not quite beneath the surface. Smiling lazily, Harry let the ocean rock him.

_oOoOo_

When he opened his eyes again, he immediately squinted against the light streaming in from the windows. It was too bloody early for the sun to be so bright. But there it was, announcing the day and he felt like he hadn't slept at all.

He turned his head, and then frowned. Sirius was asleep in the chair, his knees stretched out and his head flopped to the side. Even from here, Harry could see the dark swatches under his eyes, the way the skin sagged beneath the weight of whatever was keeping Sirius from his sleep.

Harry sat up slowly, grimacing throughout. So much for Snape's fancy potions. He was made of bruises, though at least his thumb looked fairly normal. Perhaps bluer than usual, he decided after he'd considered it.

Dizziness assaulted him as soon as he was upright. Closing his eyes, he stayed still long enough to let it pass, and then made his way slowly into the bathroom.

The short walk was a mile.

With mind to his sleeping godfather, he quietly closed the door before sinking onto the edge of the bathtub. Nothing worse than a long game of Quidditch always did to his muscles, he told himself idly. A hot shower would sort him out.

Sighing, he turned on the tap. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and kept his hand where it was to let the water mist over his arm. Brilliant.

Stripping off and ignoring the twinges, along with several aches that didn't seem to have anything to do with yesterday's topple, he stepped under the spray.

Even better.

Warmth seeping into his muscles—into his very bones. It wasn't like the ocean outside; nothing like it, in fact. But welcoming just the same. He closed his eyes again and let the streams fill his mind. The waters were calm and easy, nothing to disturb or alarm.

Nothing to remind him of his dreams. He could only half-remember them now. Churning waves and whispered pleas. It had been all that talk about Snape and Voldemort; there was nothing there but the quiet.

oOoOo

Sirius was staring out the window when Harry emerged. He turned his head as Harry came into his line of sight. The frown lines around his mouth deepened and his eyes narrowed as if he couldn't properly see Harry otherwise. "How are you feeling?"

Confused by the lack of humour in his godfather's face, Harry answered softly, "All right."

"How is the thumb?"

Harry crooked it. "Feels better."

"Good." Another speculative squint. "Come sit," he finally said, indicating the chair opposite.

Harry finished the journey and slid slowly onto the cushion, his eyes glued to his godfather. He sat with his hands tangled in his lap and waited. Sirius ran his fingers over the stubble covering his chin and cheeks before saying, "You and I made a pact… or at least—" A grimace. "—I _thought_ you had agreed to leave the streams alone."

Harry was too surprised to reply.

Obviously taking that as an admission of guilt, Sirius sighed. "I felt something—difficult to explain it, but after you woke up last night, when I went to fetch the water, it was almost like someone was tugging at my thoughts. It happened again just now… woke me up." A pause and Sirius' lips pressed together briefly. "You told me last night that you hadn't summoned the streams—that it was a dream—"

"It was," Harry said quickly. "I was just checking them," he explained. "The dream seemed so real, and I just wanted to make sure…"

"And was everything all right?" Sirius' shoulders had tensed.

"Yes—"

"And this morning?" Sirius asked quietly. "Did you have another dream during the night?"

Harry thought about that, but he could only remember vague impressions. Someone drowning. Or someone being pulled away by their family. "I don't think so." But of course that just meant he had no reason to be exploring the streams, so he added lamely, "I was just checking…"

"And what would you have done if you _had_ found something amiss?"

Having not considered that, Harry had no answer.

Sirius propped his elbows on his knees and leant forward. "I don't know if I need to be clearer, or if you are simply choosing not to listen, Harry, but I don't like that you have these streams in your head. I want you to leave them alone. You don't understand them fully, and I don't have enough experience in Legilimency to help you if something goes wrong."

"I know," Harry mumbled. His cheeks were hot, and it was difficult not to look away. "It's just a habit, I guess."

"I understand that," Sirius said, his expression finally softening. "They were necessary before, but we're not in danger any longer."

Even if that was difficult to believe.

"I wish I could take them away somehow," Sirius said heavily. "I hate that you have to worry about this."

"I don't usually even think about them." Which wasn't so true since they'd come to Belize, but Harry didn't amend his statement.

"But you're having nightmares about them."

A rueful smile curled Harry's lip. So much for not alarming his godfather.

Sirius slid forward and grasped Harry's knee. "You can include me in your worry. I know it hasn't fully sunk in yet, but that's what I'm here for." He smiled. "Something I've been trying to impress upon you since Umbridge cursed you."

"Slow learner," Harry muttered with half a smile and a shrug.

"_That_ is not true in the least. But I wouldn't object if you were to start thinking of yourself as a child, instead of the savior of the Wizarding world."

"I'm sixteen." It was a token objection only, which Sirius clearly heard because he nudged Harry's jaw.

"You've said as much before. And it doesn't help your argument. A sixteen-year old is legally a child, you know. I even have a parchment that says you are _my_ child."

Harry flushed again, but it wasn't completely embarrassment this time.

"And the converse of that?" Sirius prompted. His eyebrow was quirked, but his eyes were dancing, which made it difficult for Harry not to smile.

"That you're the adult?"

"Adult, parent… something like that." Sirius poked Harry's ankle with his socked toe and then sat back in his chair. He made an effort for a more solemn tone. "Whether or not we have that sorted, there's no need to be worried on your own."

Harry nodded. "Thanks." He relaxed in the overstuffed chair and accepted the brochure his godfather handed him.

"Ruins," Sirius said, leaning forward again to point out some etchings on the first photograph. "And if I'm not mistaken, those are ancient runes on that piece of pottery. What do you say? Shall we see if we can convince someone that magical folk used to inhabit this land? Two ordinary chaps prove that magic really does exist. It could be in all the papers by morning."

Harry grinned. "That's all we need, Sirius, more publicity."

_TBC…_


	8. Bruised and Beaten

**Chapter 8: Bruised and Beaten  
**

"Can I do anything, sir?"

Sirius glanced up at the anxious tour guide, and then back to his godson. "No. Thank you, but I think you best go on without us."

The tour guide nodded. "We won't be able to hear you back in the caves though, sir, so…"

"We'll be fine," Sirius said, not particularly caring how impatient he sounded. The tour guide took the hint, told him how to find their way out and hurried along to where the other people were waiting.

Sirius tilted Harry's chin up, wishing he could use his wand for a light. "How do you feel?" he asked quietly.

Harry grimaced and didn't answer.

"Do you think you can stand?"

"Yes," Harry mumbled. Doubtful of that, Sirius took an arm and helped him up from the damp floor. "Sorry…"

"I hope that's an apology for searching the streams and not for being a nuisance."

Harry looked up quickly.

Sirius sighed. "You are not a nuisance, and I don't particularly care about missing the rest of the tour. I'm not pleased you with at the moment, but you are not a nuisance."

Harry ducked his head. "I didn't mean—"

"I'm not going to lecture you until you get some colour back," Sirius muttered as they walked slowly from the dark cave and into the sunlight, "but this has to stop."

"Sounds like a lecture…"

Sirius stopped walking, and put a hand on Harry's elbow to stop him as well. "I don't understand why you keep searching the streams," he eventually said, which brought his godson's eyes up.

"I'm not doing it on purpose."

Sirius raised dubious brows.

"I'm not," Harry insisted.

"If that's true, then I am even more worried about you. If you are not in control of it—"

"That's not what I said!"

An elderly couple walking nearby, looked over in interest. Sirius gave them a strained smile and tugged Harry away—in the other direction and toward the seclusion of a grove of trees.

"What _are_ you saying then?" Sirius asked quietly.

With a frustrated gesture, Harry said, "I don't know. The streams are just there."

"I understand that, but you need to try a little harder to stay away from them. _Harry_," Sirius forestalled another argument, "you nearly passed out just now—"

"It isn't because of the streams," Harry said impatiently. "I dove headfirst into a bunch of rocks yesterday."

That brought Sirius up short. "You told me you were feeling well this morning."

Harry shrugged. "I am, but that doesn't mean I don't have concussion or something. The streams are not doing anything—they've been sitting in there for over a month—"

No longer interested in Harry's mental streams, Sirius took his arm again. "Come here." Harry didn't protest the grip, allowing himself to be steered into the trees. Once they were hidden from elderly couples and other passersby, Sirius took his chin and used the light from his wand to peer into Harry's eyes.

"You didn't lose consciousness, did you?" he asked, even though the doctor had asked the very same question.

"No." Harry pulled away when Sirius continued to squint at him. "I'm fine—"

Sirius let his wand arm fall. "A moment ago, you said you were probably concussed. And you were not feeling well last night when you were exploring the streams. Something isn't right…" He shook his head. "Maybe we ought to go back home—"

"What? No, I don't want to leave," Harry said quickly.

"I'm not a healer—"

"Dr. Owens said I was fit."

Sirius blew out a breath and nodded. "I know, but if the streams are affecting you, she couldn't diagnose that."

"They're not."

"It isn't normal to have dizzy spells," Sirius pointed out, though he had no idea why he should need to.

"I just need to rest a bit more, then." Harry's voice was half-way to pleading now, and Sirius felt himself deflating. He sighed and combed his fingers through his godson's hair.

"You would have made a convincing Slytherin, you know that?"

Harry looked confused for a moment, but then he smiled slowly. "Does that mean we can stay?"

"Yes," Sirius sighed. "We'll stay. I think I'll write to write to Snape though, see if he can give us some insight."

Harry sucked in his bottom lip as he considered that.

"Something is affecting you," Sirius said. "I've asked you several times to leave the streams alone, and if that's not possible—" He shook his head when Harry tried to interrupt, "—we need to do something about it."

"But, I'm not—"

Sirius took his shoulder, gave it a firm grip. "I believe you, Harry."

Harry stared at him. "You do?"

Lips quirking, Sirius nodded. "Of course." He gave Harry's shoulder a gentle shake. "Do you feel well enough to walk for a bit? Or would you rather Apparate straight back?"

"Walk," Harry answered after a moment. "Sorry we missed the rest of the tour…"

"We'll go another day if you like."

Harry looked up, smiled a little. It was far too long to walk the entire way back to their bungalow, but the sun felt nice and Sirius was content to simply enjoy the quiet with his godson; the shushing waves nearby and the crunching of pebbles beneath their feet.

oOoOo

Sirius tossed aside the Muggle pen. He didn't like the way it wrote, and he missed the scritch of a quill's tip as it dragged across parchment. But he hadn't brought parchment with him, so the stationary he'd found in the desk would have to do.

Getting up silently, Sirius went into the bedroom. He stopped beside his godson's bed. Harry was asleep though, without dreams to plague him.

The disturbances had come earlier. Sirius had felt them just as he had before, something tugging at his mind. Making him uneasy. And when he had decided to wake Harry, his godson had quieted, and his breaths had evened out.

It had happened twice more, but each time Harry calmed before Sirius could wake him.

Sirius pulled the blanket up to Harry's shoulder before continuing on to fetch the quill sent by Shacklebolt.

Harry was still sleeping as he crossed back to the sitting room. The moon was bright outside the windows, the night sky absolutely cloudless. He put the quill beside the pen and opened the door to lean against the frame and simply breathe in the cool air.

He had no idea what he should say in a letter to Snape. That he was worried, yes. But worried about what exactly? That Harry's accidental forays into the streams were giving him dizzy spells? That Harry seemed to unable to stay away from this thing that had torn reality itself apart?

No matter what Harry had said, something was wrong here. Sirius could feel it. And how was he supposed to put that into words? Words that Snape wouldn't scoff at, no less.

A loud pop broke the calm. The familiar pop of Apparition.

Sirius' wand was in his hand in the next moment, his eyes trained on the still and quiet black. He could see someone moving near the shoreline. Carefully, Sirius went down the steps, his wand ready.

The darkness faded to shadow, and the shadow to dark robes. "Remus?"

"Who else would I be?"

Sirius held his ground as his neck tingled. "What are you doing here? Has something happened?"

"No, you imbecile, I simply enjoy apparating thousands of miles."

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "Snape?"

The brown eyes glittered in the moonlight. "We are exposed," Remus' look-alike snapped instead of answering. He moved forward.

"One more step," Sirius said thinly, "and you will never take another."

"So you've managed to grow a brain while on holiday, have you?"

Sirius brought his wand a little higher. "Prove you're Snape."

"Again? Didn't we have enough of that while you were hanging in the Dark Lord's little prison?"

"Sirius?" Harry's worried voice came from behind, but Sirius didn't turn.

"Stay there, Harry."

"What's going on?" Harry was right behind him now.

"Stay there," Sirius repeated sharply. He heard the schlip of Harry drawing his wand, but no other sound.

"And you've taught him to obey," the sarcastic voice emerged once more. And then, while Sirius watched, Remus' features melted, shifting until they were the sharp angles belonging to Snape. "Convinced yet?" he asked acidly.

"No," Sirius snapped. "Don't move." And the other man didn't, remaining still as stone while Sirius went through every revealing spell he knew—and because of his father, that was at least a dozen.

Even without the spells, he recognized the snap of his old enemy's magic, could feel Snape's presence along the tendrils in his mind that kept him connected to Harry.

Very slowly, Sirius lowered his wand. "Why are you here?"

"Your godson probably knows."

Sirius glanced back at Harry, who was gripping his wand in a white fist. "Knows what?" he demanded, shakily at that.

It was Snape's turn to narrow his eyes; speculation nested there. "Either you do not realize what you're doing or…" He turned those black eyes to Sirius. "… he is keeping it from you."

"Keeping what from me?"

"I'm not doing anything!"

"What is going on?" Sirius asked quietly, after another quick look at his indignant godson.

"I am exposed," Snape answered shortly.

Frowning, Sirius nodded. He went back into the house, ushering Harry in front of him. Snape, with his customary Snapeness, curled a lip as he surveyed the furnishings.

"Lovely…"

"Insults later, if you please," Sirius interrupted whatever remarks were about to roll of the sharp tongue. "You've felt the streams, haven't you? Whatever it is they're doing."

Snape's eyes snapped to Harry and back again to Sirius. "_They?_ It is Potter who is distorting the streams."

"What?" Harry sputtered as Sirius turned. "No I'm not!"

"There is little point in lying. I have felt them, as your godfather so inaccurately described it."

"Felt _what?_" Harry erupted.

"Hey now," Sirius intervened, stepping quickly in between them as they glowered at one another. "Harry," he said firmly. Harry's gaze switched over; his cheeks were too pale, especially given his irritation. "What does he mean?"

"I don't know. I told you, they're just there—"

"But you were dreaming again. I felt it as well."

Harry's indrawn breather was shaky; his nod jerked. "Someone was drowning, just like before, and all of you were there… there was a lot of water, and I couldn't breathe, but then it was better…"

And while Harry was gesturing, Sirius realized his godson's hands were shaking. He caught one up, which made Harry blink in surprise. "What are you…?"

"What's the matter?"

But the rickety tremors didn't stop. The shadows under his eyes were deeper than they had been even in the weeks when reality had been torn in two.

"He should not be manipulating the streams," Snape answered. "I could sense his weakness, whatever he is doing, it is weakening him."

Harry rounded on Snape. He stumbled before he'd turned fully round and had to grip Sirius' sleeve as Sirius' hand shot out to catch him.

"Harry?"

"I'm…" Harry closed his eyes and pulled in an unsteady draught of air. The same bout of dizziness that had assaulted him in the cave this morning—the same one that accompanied the insistent tugs in Sirius' mind. Harry's accidental brushes with his mental streams.

"You are not fine."

Harry's eyes came open, probably because that had emerged sharper than Sirius had intended. Not caring that Snape was gawping at them, Sirius said quietly, "Let's sit… Sort this out. Put your head down, take a breath." He was relieved when Harry didn't argue.

When Sirius looked up again, Snape was standing above them, looking like he wished he could strangle them both.

Keeping his voice as even as he could, Sirius said, "Tell me what you mean. When you say Harry is manipulating the streams."

"I do not know."

"Then tell me what you do know."

Snape scowled at him. "The streams have been calm since the dark lord died, and now," he said with a pointed look for Harry, "they are not. They are _stormy_, as Potter once described."

"That was when Voldemort was in his head," Sirius said sharply. Panic gripped him tautly then, but Snape's derisive snort loosened it again.

"It is not the dark lord. It is Potter."

Harry looked up; anger was brewing in his expression again. Sirius put a hand on his arm.

"Harry said he hasn't manipulated the streams."

With absolute certainty, Snape returned, "He is lying."

"I am not!" Harry objected. "You can't just—"

Sirius tightened his fingers against his godson's wrist. "Harry, stop." He didn't miss the wounded expression on his godson's face; he would sort that later, as well. "Why are you so certain he's lying?"

Snape looked between them, finally answering, "Because the disturbance is caused by him. I cannot explain it, but it originates with him." Another glance at Harry. "Whether or not he realizes it."

"So then I'm not lying?" Harry mocked.

"I do not know," Snape retorted, "but since it would not be the first time…"

"All _right_," Sirius interjected before Harry could reply. "That's enough. Can you do anything?" he asked Snape.

"Not until I know what he doing to the streams. And that can only be accomplished if I enter his mind."

"I'm coming with you," Sirius said, ready to argue if he had to. But Snape simply nodded.

"Do I get a say in this?" Harry drew their attention.

"No."

Harry turned a glare on Snape; it would have been more effective if he didn't look like he was about to topple.

Sirius planted a hand on top of his godson's head and got his reluctant attention. "If you're having dizzy spells because of this," Sirius said quietly, "and not because of yesterday's accident—"

"What accident?" Snape demanded.

"He fell. Hit his head," Sirius told him; left out the rest.

"Hm, did he begin having these dreams after that?"

"No," Sirius answered. "He's had them ever since we came here."

"Could you stop talking about me?" Harry said tiredly. He had slumped against the cushions. "I'm right here."

"Sorry," Sirius offered, while Snape curled a lip. Sirius brushed his fingers through Harry's hair. "Snape wouldn't have come all this way if he didn't believe something was truly wrong. And I'm worried about you."

Harry nodded, though he looked extremely unhappy. But it was the lines of fatigue etched around his eyes that decided the matter for Sirius. He let his hand move to grip Harry's shoulder and turned to Snape.

Snape summoned the desk chair, didn't acknowledge either of them as he took out his wand.

Harry tensed, but before Sirius could find something encouraging to say, Snape whispered the same spell he'd used the first time Sirius had accompanied him into Harry's mind and then Sirius was no longer aware of the room around them.

It was dark, with no light, no peace as there had been in the days when the realities were split; when Harry had accepted the rift he'd created.

The water was choppy, lifting and rolling in discontented waves. And Harry was in the middle, ashen and drawn. It quickened Sirius' heartbeat, even though he knew this was only an image created by Harry himself.

_What have you done?_

It was Snape's voice, ice and bitterness. Harry's eyes flicked to Snape, and then back to Sirius.

_I don't know_.

The words sent a chill of fear down Sirius' spine; didn't matter that he had no corporeal body in this place. He swam against the tide's push; there was no land here.

_What happened?_ he sputtered as he was dragged through the currents. _Has it been this way since Voldemort died?_

Harry's teeth were chattering. He didn't fight the waves; they swayed him to and fro. _I don't know._

Beside him, behind him, Snape made a frustrated noise. He too was battling the water. He was making no progress.

Sirius had to force his thoughts to still, had to fight against the urge to reach out for Harry. And when he stopped moving, he began to drift. Just as Harry was drifting. And eventually, the waves took him to his godson.

He gripped Harry's hand, and wished desperately that he could still the tremors. Water was running rivulets from Harry's hair and Sirius realized then that it was raining. Tiny droplets plinked ripples on the water's surface.

Snape cottoned on, and finally joined them.

_What is happening?_ Sirius demanded as soon as he was near.

Snape was studying Harry's face and didn't answer. _Take me through your dreams_, he ordered softly. _Every detail._

_I..._ Harry shook his head slowly, as if he was trying to dislodge cobwebs. _… it feels like drowning… the water always comes back…_

_Comes back? Where has it gone? _

_I… don't know…_

_You must try_, Snape snapped. _These waters are unstable, and you are weak in this place. You used to command these waters._

But it was obvious to Sirius that Harry still did. While he and Snape were treading to keep afloat, Harry was still. It didn't try to drag him under, simply shifted around him. Made room for him.

_Harry. _

Harry turned to Sirius, blinking slowly. _I don't know_, he said, every line in his face miserable. _I'm not trying to be difficult._

_I know. Think about it carefully though, can you do that? We'll wait. It's all right. You're doing just fine. _

The words eased the stress in Harry's face, even as his teeth continued to chatter. _It's always a single stream_, he finally whispered. _Separated from the rest. There are other streams nearby, and you… you're always there, Sirius. And Snape, and Remus… Ron and Hermione…_

_With the other streams? _

But Harry shook his head. _With me_.

_Whose is the lone stream? _

Harry glanced at Snape. _I don't know. It's just a dream. _

_It is not familiar to you?_

_No. _

Snape was fairly shaking with impatience. _Continue._

Harry's jaw trembled as he turned to stare at nothing—at the vast ocean he had created. _It's… just like Remus, the stream._

Sirius gripped Harry's hand. _How do you mean?_

_It's drowning… drying out, just like when I…_ Harry shook his head.

_When you nearly killed him_, Snape supplied.

Sirius frowned at him, but Harry made no notice of Snape's remark.

_And it's begging me, just like Remus did. And all I have to do is reach out and the water rushes in, from me and from all of you and from the other streams nearby. _

_Just as they did when Lupin was dying?_ Snape asked; the perfect calm of his voice made Sirius wary all over again.

_Yeah, _Harry whispered_. Just like that and then the stream is… whole again and the others… take it away._ He focused on Sirius again. _And then I wake up. _

Harry was watching him, gauging his reaction. _That was a horrible day_, Sirius said quietly. _It isn't your fault though, Harry, you know that. _

_A dream should not cause such a disruption,_ Snape said before Harry could reply. _After each of these dreams, you are dizzy? Disoriented?_

_Yes_.

Snape's stared in unblinking silence at Harry, until Harry shifted in the churning water, as if to move away.

Sirius said to Snape, _What is it? You don't think it's a dream?_

Snape ignored him. _Have you attempted to find these streams after they join their fellows?_

_I…_ A swift glance at Sirius. _No._

Snape narrowed his eyes. _You are lying._

Harry's hands moved in agitation until he'd pulled away from Sirius—from both of them. _No, I'm not. It's just a dream, _he said to Sirius.

Sirius studied his godson's face and had to force himself not to contradict him. _Are you checking for these streams? The ones in your dreams?_

And all at once, Harry deflated. Sirius stared at him, unable to sort out a response. Which was probably for the best as his first one would have been a proper scolding. But even if he'd found the words, he wouldn't have said anything with Snape right there.

_It was only just now_, Harry rushed to defend himself. _I woke up, and it seemed so real. But it can't be real._

_Did you find the stream?_ Snape interrupted the torrent of words.

_No. I heard something, so I went out to the sitting room_. He looked back to Sirius; and cringed. Sirius forced himself to unclench his jaw.

_Do you think you could find it?_ Snape asked.

_I… _

_Try. _

Harry ran a hand over his mouth, his eyes darting once again to Sirius. _I wouldn't know where to start._

_You must have had some idea_, Snape said impatiently. _If you intended to try it earlier._

Harry shook his head. _You don't understand. Remember, how I found Remus' stream—it was connected to Sirius' and then later Tonks' came in to help, and Shacklebolts', the Weasleys'… I can't find someone without someone else._

_Then how did you find it in the first place?_ Sirius asked sharply.

Harry swallowed. _I… didn't. I was dreaming. I told you I was dreaming…_

_You just happened upon the stream, _Snape mused.

_Yes…_

_And you have no way of finding it again? _

_I… don't think so. _

Without warning, Sirius was ripped from Harry's mind, the streams no longer surrounding him. He was hunched over on the sofa, trying to catch his breath. "What the hell?" he rasped before he could stop himself.

Snape was sitting in the desk chair, utterly unruffled. "Did you wish to remain inside Potter's mind?" he asked in his snarkiest voice. Sirius didn't even bother to answer. He turned to Harry. He was still pale, but he looked no worse for their little trip.

"Are you all right?" Sirius asked, aware of how stiff he sounded.

"Yes," Harry said softly, quickly. Sirius nodded tersely, swallowed past the sudden burn in his throat. He turned his eyes to Snape.

"Would you give us a moment, please?"

"Oh, certainly," Snape drawled. "Where shall I wait, then? Perhaps in the grove of palm trees just outside the door? Or behind the house itself?

"There's a bedroom," Sirius told him, just shy of snapping. Snape glowered, but stood without another word and swept away. The bedroom door clicked behind him.

Neither Sirius nor Harry spoke, not even when Sirius finally turned. Harry was watching him, his posture tense and expression wary. "I'm sorry," he finally mumbled.

"No, you're not," Sirius said very quietly. "If you were, you wouldn't continue to defy me." He heard the echo of his father, but for once he didn't care. "You are out of order, Harry, and you know it. How many times do you need to hear me tell you to leave the streams alone before it means something to you?"

Harry blinked rapidly. "It does—"

"Obviously not." Sirius lowered his head until he held his godson's eyes. "You just said you were intentionally looking through the streams."

"Because it didn't feel like a dream that time."

"Then you should have come to me."

Harry blinked again, but this time words were defensive, "I was only half-awake."

"You were aware enough to go poking around," Sirius countered. He took Harry's chin when his godson turned away. "I've given in too many times, clearly."

"These streams are in my head. You couldn't have done anything."

"You need to stop to thinking you have to do everything on your own. I know that's why you don't listen, why you believe you don't have to, but this has to stop, do you understand me? You are not alone, here."

"It isn't about being alone," Harry said heatedly; he pulled his jaw away. "I know I'm not, all right? But I can't come to you for every tiny thing."

With exasperation, Sirius said, "Yes, you can." Before Harry could argue that, he went on, "But this is not something tiny. These streams are doing something to you—affecting you in some way, and you won't even stop for a moment to consider that I might be able to help you."

"I already told you," Harry insisted, "I just wanted to check. I should be allowed to do that inside my own mind."

"But you can't. Everything changed when the realities split. And now you have all of that weighing on you—"

"So what? There's nothing I can do about that, and just because you don't like it, it doesn't change anything!"

The raw shout set Sirius' teeth on edge. He refused to respond in kind, so he sat back against the sofa arm and squeezed his own cheeks until they throbbed. Harry stared at him for a long moment, finally folding his arms jerkily across his chest and turning his face away.

When he was sure his voice would emerge evenly, Sirius said, "That is going to have to stop as well."

Harry swiveled his head.

"The shouting," Sirius elaborated. Harry's cheeks immediately turned scarlet.

He looked away, and eventually whispered an apology. Sirius raked his hands through his hair as he studied his godson's profile. Sighing, he slid forward and let his elbows balance on his knees. "Look, Harry, I know how difficult this is—"

"No, you don't," Harry interrupted dully. He didn't look at Sirius. "They're not in your head."

"That isn't what I meant. Hey, look at me."

Harry turned his head, but kept his arms tight over his chest. "I can't pretend they're not there."

"I'm not asking that, Harry."

"Yes, you are," Harry said stiffly. "I thought I was just having nightmares, but what if I'm not?"

"Then, we'll sort that out," Sirius told him. "Snape came to help."

"They're not in his head either. I'm in there all the time." He clenched his jaw and glared at a spot beyond Sirius' shoulder. "I don't need you to tell me what to do with them."

The words brought Sirius to silence.

Harry unfolded his arms and stood so abruptly that he tripped over the edge of the rug. Sirius caught his arm, but Harry pulled away. He was at the door by the time Sirius found his voice, "It's the middle of the night."

"I just need some air," Harry muttered. He didn't close the door behind him.

"He has a point."

Sirius twisted. He hadn't heard Snape leaving the bedroom. "Sorry?" The word scraped his throat.

"He is immersed, quite literally, in the streams."

"I know that."

Snape considered him, with those soulless eyes of his. "He is not dreaming. And furthermore," he spoke right over Sirius, "he knows he is not."

Sirius' hands curled into fists. "Why are you so sure of that?"

"Because I am not interested in thinking the best of him. You are exceptionally weak where he is concerned." It was said with disdain, and thoroughly meant. And Sirius did not argue.

Swallowing through the clog in his throat, he stood and went to stand by the door. He could see Harry sitting on the beach, his knees drawn up to his chest. "If he isn't dreaming…"

"Perhaps he is seeking weak streams. People who are ill, perhaps."

"Or they are seeking him," Sirius murmured. "He said it feels like he is drowning. That's what happened when he… when Remus…"

"Both of you," Snape muttered half under his breath, "so afraid of the truth."

"And you, of course, can speak of Lily's death with perfect equanimity." He was satisfied with Snape's silence. He was still a git, no matter how much he had done for them. "Shacklebolt will not be pleased you've come," he eventually said, watching as the waves licked at Harry's bare feet.

"Would you prefer I leave?" The words could have cut stone.

"No," Sirius answered honestly. "Not if you can help."

"What is it you wish me to do?" Snape demanded icily; leftover offense. "If Potter is somehow giving strength to the weak, you can do nothing to stop him."

Sirius finally glanced back at him. "Then why did you come?"

Snape scowled. "He should not be playing with things he does not understand."

"Then you did come to stop him?"

"Must you always ask idiotic questions?" Snape snapped.

"Must you always insist upon being vague and contrary?"

Snape glared and then said through his lips, "I do detest you."

Sirius turned back to the night. "The feeling is reciprocated, I promise."

Snape's boots clacked against the boards; his robes swished angrily. "You do realize," he demanded, "that your godson is wading through the streams this very moment?"

With jaw tight, Sirius nodded. He knew it; he had felt it a few minutes ago. But he honestly had no idea what he was supposed to do about it. Why the hell had he ever believed he could be anything more than Molly had assumed? He had no bloody idea what he was doing.

But he did know he couldn't let Harry sit in the surf all night. Though Harry might disagree with that as well. Running through a string of oaths in his head, Sirius went down the steps and into the sand. It was cold between his toes.

Harry didn't look up when he approached, made no effort at all to acknowledge him. And it wasn't because he was fully immersed in his mind. His eyes clearly caught Sirius' movement, but he went back to staring at the moonlit waves.

Sirius lowered himself to the sand, folded his legs and joined the ocean-gazing. "Are you looking for the same stream?" he eventually asked.

"Yes."

"Why?" Sirius kept his voice neutral; told himself he wasn't angry, that he was simply worried. But the lie was pointless. The anger was there, tangled with the rest.

He wondered if Harry would answer, but after what seemed like an eternity, his godson said flatly, "If it isn't a dream, then I need to know what it is."

"And you don't think Snape could help you with that?"

Harry finally looked at him. "I didn't think you'd let him. Not if you don't want me searching the streams."

"I don't." Sirius didn't know if it was anger or hurt choking his words, and he really didn't give a damn. "But if you have no intention of listening to me, at least let Snape help you. You shouldn't have to sort it out on your own."

Harry turned away; his throat rippled. "I can't ignore it."

Sirius went back to staring at the ocean. "I know."

There was no use for more words. But the silence gnawed at Sirius' chest as he watched the waves crawl back to the ocean. "Let's go inside, then. You'll catch pneumonia out here."

At least everything wouldn't be a war. Harry stood. He ducked his head and turned for the bungalow. With his stomach in shreds, Sirius followed after him.

_TBC…_


	9. Blind and Dumb

**Chapter 9: Blind and Dumb  
**

Harry sank to his knees as soon as he and Snape were ejected from his mind. He felt someone dropping next to him, heard his godfather's voice, but couldn't sort out the words. Sirius' hands on his arms were helping him sit, nudging his neck so that he was doubled over and trying to catch his breath.

Snape was rasping, and Harry realized then that he and Sirius were arguing.

"Are you insane?"

"Do not blame me—"

"He can barely breathe!"

"Then tell _him_ to stop, you imbecile! Do your job!"

Sirius didn't retort. He was tapping an erratic pattern against Harry's back, and Harry wished he wouldn't. The sound was ricocheting off his spine and carving echoes inside his skull.

He dragged in air as he clenched his fists tighter and tried to still the tremors coursing through him. He had no idea how long they'd been inside his mind, searching, at Snape's insistence, for another stream. For one as weak and parched as the others had been. The ones that Harry now knew were not part of any dream.

There were thousands of them probably—millions. All of them dying, just as Remus had been. Harry hadn't forced _them_ toward death, of course, but death was still coming for them.

He didn't know if they were dying of old age, or disease. Attack or accident. But they _were_ dying. And Harry could stop it.

Had stopped it many times now, without even knowing what he was doing. They had simply needed him, reached out for strength where they could find it and Harry had obliged.

What did it matter if it brought him to his knees and squeezed his lungs?

Because Sirius would not approve.

Snape didn't either, but he hadn't intervened. He had simply watched, finally propelling them from his mind when the renewed stream had slipped away. He should have waited, given Harry a chance to recover, which Harry would point out; once he reclaimed his breath.

"Harry?"

Sirius was in front of him, pushing the fringe from his eyes and looking worried. Harry nodded, hoped it would be enough. He didn't want to answer any questions. It would only worry Sirius further, and Harry didn't think he could stand another of those disappointed looks.

The anger either.

Not that his godfather didn't have a reason to be angry. Harry was an ungrateful prat, he knew that. But this was his fault. His fault the realities had been split, his fault the streams existed at all; it was his responsibility to fix this now.

"I'm fine," Harry finally said between gulps of air. "Just… need… a minute."

"What happened?" That was directed behind him, to Snape.

"He is preventing people from dying. Don't deny it, Potter!"

Harry felt his cheeks warming, but that might have been because Sirius was gaping at him. "You're what?"

"Dying, you fool, the streams are dying," Snape snarled. "Each one of them an individual and Potter once again believes he is God."

Harry tried to twist to snap back at him, but Sirius was gripping his arms, his face pale and slack. Harry tugged against the painful grip, and was about to protest but before he could, Sirius dropped his hands. His lips moved, but nothing emerged. He sank back onto his heels, still in utter silence.

Harry shifted, unsure what to say that wouldn't cause a torrent of questions. On a shaky breath, he said, "They're asking me for help."

"And you think that gives you the right—"

"Shut up," Sirius interrupted Snape. He was staring at Harry though, a thousand questions in his eyes. All the anger had retreated. "You can tell when people are dying?" he asked. "Do you know who they are?"

Harry shook his head.

"They're coming to you?" Sirius asked very quietly, an intensity in his words that made Harry's mouth dry. He could only nod. "And you can stop it?" Sirius whispered. "You can stop them from dying?"

Another nod.

Sirius put a hand over his mouth, as he did when words failed. But this time he spoke against the palm. A single word, a punch of breath. "No."

"Sirius—"

Sirius dropped his hand; the anger had returned full force. "No," he repeated. "You have no idea what the consequences might be, to you or to the people you're helping. Or to the rest of the world."

"They need my help," Harry finally managed to break into the flow of words.

"I don't care. I'm not going to let you do this."

Harry frowned at that. "You said the same thing about Snape, and it worked out just—"

"It worked out so well that now you still have these bloody streams in your head!"

"Well, I couldn't just let him die!"

"You are not responsible for everyone else," Sirius said through his teeth. "You are not responsible for _any_one else."

"I can't just ignore them. Not if they're begging me to help. And they are. If you had seen—"

"I don't need to see," Sirius retorted hoarsely. "I saw enough when you came out of it. You couldn't even stand, you could barely breathe."

"I'm fine!"

"You are not!" Sirius finally let his voice rise and Harry cringed. "How many people do you think you can save before you lose consciousness? And that could be just the beginning!"

"I'm not—"

"You have no idea what this will do to you! And I am not going to lose you!"

That halted Harry's retort. Sirius' jaw pulsed as he mashed his lips together. He swallowed several times.

"It isn't hurting me," Harry said quickly, "and if I can save a few people—"

"It's a few people now; a person here and there. But what about when it's ten? A hundred? What are you going to do when thousands of people are clamoring for you to save their lives, Harry?"

"There are billions of people in the world."

Sirius and Harry both turned; Harry had forgotten his old professor was there.

"I couldn't save all of those people, but if it's only—"

"It isn't ever _only_ with you, Harry," his godfather snapped. "You would have stopped at nothing to save Snape, do you remember? If he hadn't gone after you, you would have _died_." The word was choked and Harry felt a twitch of guilt.

"I know, Sirius, but—"

"No," Sirius cut him off. "This ends here. All of it this ends here."

Harry felt the rush of heat as it stained his cheeks, the slow anger because Sirius didn't understand. "You can't do anything."

"You don't know that if you won't let me try. At least let Snape—"

"No," Harry interrupted; the word burned his throat. "You don't understand." He struggled to his feet. Sirius didn't try to stop him. "Snape either, so he can bloody well stay out of my head. I started this whole mess! It's my fault! And if I do nothing now, it's me who has to watch them die, not _you_!"

He nearly unbalanced himself as he pivoted.

oOoOo

Sirius stared after his godson; his throat was throbbing in time to his heartbeat. He closed his eyes as the bedroom door slammed; it echoed against his temples, flaming the headache he'd been skirting all day. Fucking hell…

Leftover anger tingled in his fingers, made his limbs immobile. Anger, fear, it was all the same. Because he _knew_ Harry. He knew his godson wouldn't stop when it began to overwhelm him. He had no care for his own life if he could help someone else. It was who Harry was, and no matter what Sirius said—or did—nothing could change that.

But anger was getting them nowhere.

"The streams will overwhelm him," Snape's voice brought Sirius' eyes from the door. "It isn't a simple matter of someone requesting help."

Sirius looked at him through bleary eyes. "How do you mean?"

Snape had lifted himself up, but he was still sitting on the floor. His curtain of dark hair swished as he scowled. "It is an attack—an act of desperation. He was nearly drowned, as he was when Lupin attempted to fight against the Imperius Curse. That is why he cannot breathe when he emerges."

Sirius swallowed. "And if… more than one stream…"

"They would likely strangle him before he could succeed."

Sirius turned to glare at the windows. His jaw trembled, and he had to force himself to let his chest rise and fall at a steady rate. He wasn't going to let that happen. "There has to be a way," he said unevenly, "to get it out of his head."

"There is."

Sirius eyes snapped back to Snape. A mocking smile touched the other man's lips.

"The streams remain only because I still live. Had you forgotten?"

"No," Sirius whispered.

"Then the answer is obvious."

But it wasn't. Harry would never forgive him if he killed Snape. Which is why he hadn't done it in the first place. "He won't let you die." He cared little how raggedly his voice emerged. "There has to be another way."

"Wishes rarely come true, Black."

"No," Sirius agreed softly. "But my parents' library is one of the most extensive collections of dark magic in wizarding Britain."

With narrowed eyes Snape said, "It would be simpler to kill me."

"You really don't understand him at all, do you?" Sirius stood on rickety legs. He didn't wait for a reply. When he reached the bedroom, he knocked lightly on the frame. There was no answer so he opened the door. Harry was sitting on his bed, elbows on his knees and his head bowed.

Silently, Sirius closed the door and gazed at Harry's dark hair, tangled with sleep, and still had no idea how to begin. "You won't even let Snape help you?" he finally asked. "You're determined to do everything on your own, then?"

Harry didn't answer, though his shoulders inched closer to his ears.

"We're not speaking, is that it?"

His godson glanced up then, swallowed and shook his head. Sirius gave him a one-eyed squint. "Is that no, we're not speaking or no, we are?"

"We are," Harry whispered, taking absolutely none of the humour that Sirius had intended.

Letting out a measured breath, Sirius sat on the other bed. "If I could take the streams away," he asked quietly, "would you let me?"

Harry stared at him. "You can't," he finally answered.

"But if I could?" Sirius pressed, leaning forward. "Would you let me help you?"

Harry's throat rippled as he swallowed. "I don't …" He blinked in surprise as Sirius gripped his wrists, but didn't protest.

"You haven't any idea how much I love you," Sirius said, his voice low and scratchy now. "You don't understand what it would do to me to lose you. Though you should. It might be something like what you felt when you thought I had been tortured to death by Voldemort."

Harry's breath hitched.

"That was the worst day of your life, wasn't it?" Sirius murmured. "How can you think, even for a moment, that I don't feel the same? That it wouldn't destroy me to lose you? Because it would, Harry James—" His voice broke. "—and no matter what it costs me, I am going to find a way to end this."

Sirius watched his godson's glasses fog, and found his voice with effort. "I don't want to fight with you. But if this is how it's going to be now, I'd like to know." He tried a small smile, but it was pathetic. "Prepare myself, you know."

Harry swallowed. "I won't… I'm sorry. I don't mean to…" He hung his head and said in a choked voice, "I don't even want these stupid streams."

When Sirius let his breath out this time, it was in a gust. He stood, tugging his godson with him and gathered him into a tight hug. Harry all but sagged against him. "Well, thank Merlin for _that_," Sirius muttered into his godson's hair. After a long moment, he said, "I know you lie to me as a defense mechanism—a response to the Dursleys and all the adults who never listened to you, or hurt you. But this is me. I'll always listen, and the worst I have is disappointment."

Which was probably bad enough, come to think of it.

Harry's apology was terribly forlorn. Sirius sighed.

"I know you are." Another sigh. "I'm going to be completely grey before your eighteenth birthday, you realize. And once this is over, you are grounded indefinitely."

For some reason that Sirius couldn't fathom, Harry laughed, even if it was rather hoarse.

"I'm not joking…"

"I know," Harry mumbled into his shoulder.

"Or one of Molly's awful punishments," Sirius added, smiling now. "The ones you're always going on about."

"We don't have a garden to de-gnome…"

Sirius hugged him tighter. "We'll put one in."

A quiet huff and the tension completely left Harry's spine. When he finally pulled back, he rubbed at his eyes before straightening his crooked glasses. He was studying Sirius behind them, and obviously trying very hard not to say something. Sirius combed his fingers through the shock of hair. "What is it?"

Harry tilted his head. "How do you do that?"

"I'm your godfather," Sirius said lightly. "It's my job." He gave Harry's head a little jostle. "Tell me."

"I'm not trying to be a berk, honestly, but—"

"You're not. In the least."

Harry's nod was impatient. "If we tamper with the streams… well, we can't now, because Snape was meant to die. They already would have gone away, don't you think? If he had gone through with it?" A vague gesture and a grimace for the words Harry didn't want to repeat.

"Yes. But Snape's death is not part of the plan. I already said as much."

"I know, but his stream is part of mine, it can't be separated. How will we be able to fix anything anyway? We don't even know how this happened, and until we do, Sirius, I can't ignore them, I mean, I did hear what you said, honestly, I did, but I just can't—"

"Oy." Sirius took his godson's arms. "Harry, take a breath. Sit," he ordered quietly. He steered him back to the bed when Harry only shook his head. "I know you can't just sit by idly if you can help. I _know_ that."

"Sirius—"

"You don't have to apologize for it." He put an arm round Harry's shoulders. "I don't want you to stop being you_._ I just want to be allowed to help without a colossal row." He smiled a little at the darkening cheeks. "It isn't exactly my idea of fun. Or yours?"

"No," Harry mumbled.

Sirius put his other arm around his godson and tucked him under his chin. "We're just fine." Molly's wisdom be damned. "We're going back to Grimmauld Place in the morning though. We managed to find a spell to destroy Voldemort's Horcruxes; this can't be impossible."

"But what if it is?"

"It's too important to be impossible."

"But—"

Sirius kissed the top of his godson's head, which silenced him. "Will you do something for me?" Sirius asked.

After a moment of quiet, a tentative, "Yeah?"

"Have a bit of faith in me," Sirius said quietly. "I meant what I said before we left London—I would have strangled Voldemort with my bare hands if that's what it came to. But you didn't give me a chance. Will you give me a chance to do this for you?"

Even without seeing Harry's face, he could feel the protests yearning to be released. But to his godson's credit—or perhaps to Sirius' own—none of them were set free. Instead, Harry nodded.

Smiling, Sirius ran his hand over the dark tangles and murmured, "Just a bit of faith, Harry James."

TBC...


	10. And So We Sank Amongst the Dead

_A/N: It's a shorty, but I nearly passed out while writing this, so um, yeah, hope you like it. _

**Chapter 10: And So We Sank Amongst the Dead  
**

"Any better?" Sirius asked quietly.

Without his full attention on the question, Harry nodded.

Even with perspiration dotting his upper lip, and a light sheen along his forehead, he _would_ say that. "Has the potion made any difference?"

"Yeah."

Sirius smiled a little. "Are you lying?"

Green eyes blinked in surprise but half a second later and Harry was nodding again.

Readjusting the cool flannel on his godson's forehead, Sirius murmured, "Shouldn't be much longer."

"If it works at all," Snape said from across the room where he was chopping wormwood.

Glancing up, Sirius asked, "Are you saying you might not make a perfect potion?" Harry smiled at that, which had been Sirius' aim. Snape was less amused.

"He has too many potions in his system."

Sirius knew that as well, but there seemed nothing for it, nothing to do but attempt to allow the potions to fight off fevers and aches that Harry couldn't on his own.

Because just as Sirius had predicted, it was no longer a stream here or there begging for a reprieve, but one after another. The trickle had turned into a deluge.

Too many for Harry to help alone, so Snape had taken to entering his mind each time to assist. Which was helping.

But not enough.

And there seemed to be no solution—not even in the vast library full of dark magic that his ancestors had spent generations culling. No easy answer to simply slip the streams from Harry's conscience; to set reality back to rights, leaving everything as it had been.

Not while Snape lived.

Of course, there were solutions for that—magic darker even than that which Sirius and Snape had used to bring the Horcruxes back to their creator. Dark enough that Sirius hadn't even mentioned it to Snape; too dark for Sirius to speak the words. Even though Snape would most probably go along. He didn't seem to care much for his own life; hadn't since this began.

The consequences of magic so dark could be debilitating, of course. Even permanent. But that did not mean Sirius had dismissed the idea.

Because each time Snape dragged Harry from the latest rescue, he came out weaker. Pale and shaking.

The last time he had been unconscious. And Sirius was only waiting for the inevitable now. No, not waiting.

Planning.

There was nothing else he could do. No other choice. Harry hadn't given him one.

Each time Harry emerged from his mind, Sirius could see the guilt and anxiety etched in every line of his face, in every sharp breath. Even though Sirius hadn't once scolded him again. Couldn't bear to now.

He simply sat beside him, gripped his hand, plied him with Snape's potions or put cold flannels to his forehead.

"He will need to eat first," Snape's quiet voice interrupted the twisted trail of Sirius' thoughts. Sirius glanced up, met the wary black eyes and nodded. He wondered then if Snape had any inkling of his plan; dismissed it though. Sirius had been so adamant after all, that Snape should live. That Harry wouldn't want it any other way.

And indeed, Harry would hate this. Sirius didn't like it either, would have preferred a different solution.

But life was full of difficult choices. _This_ one though… it was easily made. Harry would be free of this life-sucking curse. He would be alive and he would be whole. Nothing else mattered.

"Just a bit of soup," Sirius murmured reassuringly as he settled the mug in his godson's hands. Harry grimaced, but he sipped obediently, watching Sirius carefully. Sirius smiled and leaned back in his chair, drinking his own soup so that it felt something like normal. The two of them, having a light supper.

The rhythmic chop of Snape's knife in the corner muddied the illusion.

"Ten minutes," Snape announced. Sirius flicked another glance in his direction, but Snape was paying close attention to the roiling potion. Sirius finished his soup, exchanging the mug for his wand. He rolled it in his fingers, put it down again and smiled at Harry.

"Water?" he asked. Harry gave him the mug and accepted the glass. "Good boy," Sirius said, paying no mind to the way his voice caught momentarily. Harry didn't seem to notice. He smiled wanly and settled back against the pillows.

Sirius took the flannel from his forehead, smoothed the backs of his fingers over the clammy skin. "All right?"

Harry scrunched the blanket in a fist and drew his knees up. Scrubbing a tired hand over his eyes, he mumbled, "I feel like shite."

Sirius could see Snape's meticulous stirring falter, but he ignored it. "I know," he said quietly. "You need sleep."

But Harry shook his head. "That's worse."

Sirius nodded. He knew that very well. It had been days since Harry had had a proper sleep, and Snape's potion, though it would give the illusion of restfulness, eventually—

Sirius gripped his wand again, forcibly shoving the words away.

"The potion will help," he said firmly. Harry sighed at that, shifted his head until it was resting against the back of the sofa. He didn't close his eyes though. His jaw tautened, and Sirius immediately leant toward him.

"Harry?"

His godson shook his head, drew in a sharp breath but didn't sink into the familiar trance. Snape's boots were clicking fast against the floorboards. He had his wand out and aimed at Harry's head.

"No," Harry ground out. "It's fine—"

Sweat trickled from his temple. Sirius plucked Harry's smaller hand up between his own. "Take a breath," he ordered softly. Harry mashed his lips together, but obeyed with a long intake through his nose. He kept his eyes determinedly open, and eventually the flush drained from his cheeks and left him pale. His eyes were bloodshot, his skin dark underneath.

Snape crouched down and performed a diagnostic with his wand, grunted in something like satisfaction. "Only one?" he asked.

Harry nodded and Sirius had to remind him to breathe again. "Can't do it otherwise," Harry croaked.

If more than one stream converged on Harry's mind, there was nothing to do but heed the desperate requests.

Snape nodded curtly, creaked upright and went back to his potion. Sirius swung around to sit beside his godson. "Here," he murmured, pulling Harry's head down to rest on his shoulder. He combed the damp hair quietly and squeezed Harry's bicep with his other hand. "Just relax."

"Can't," Harry mumbled. Because really, he couldn't. On his guard at all times, and all Sirius could do was wait with him. Wait and plan.

With his dark ritual held in reserve. It was the reason Sirius kept his wand close. It was only a matter of time now.

oOoOo

Two more days passed like that. With Snape pacing and making useless potions and frantically reading about spells that would not help.

Two days of Harry fighting off invisible predators and Sirius waiting.

He was holding a glass to Harry's lips now, while teeth chattered against it. He'd come out of an unconscious slump just a few minutes ago, having been pulled under by multiple streams. He'd only clawed his way out with Snape's skill.

And this, Sirius vowed, would be the last time.

He kissed the top of his godson's head and pulled the glass away. "You're all right," he promised. A lie just now. But not for long.

Harry swallowed convulsively. His fingers were bunched in Sirius' shirt, where they'd been since he'd gasped himself awake and flailed wildly until Sirius had convinced him he was no longer inside his head.

Snape was hunched on the floor, still trying to regain his breath. His hands were shaking where they wrapped his legs. With great effort, Sirius directed a potion from the worktop to hover in front of Snape. Snape took it slowly, had to grasp blindly at the air twice before he managed to unseal the wax and gulp it down. It helped the tremors but Snape didn't move all the same.

"How many?" Sirius asked in a rasp. "Shh," he hushed his godson when he tried to answer but couldn't.

"Dozen," Snape breathed. Sirius stared at him even as his arms tightened around Harry.

"Dear God…"

"There were more," Snape said thinly. "We need…" He shook his head. _ A solution_, Sirius knew he meant to say. A remedy, a way to fix this.

The ritual was the only way. But the words were in his head, the responsibility resting quietly in his breast. If Sirius could have said the words, Snape would have agreed. Because they had no choice.

Sirius chafed at Harry's arm, trying to breathe warmth back into him. Harry was still shaking though, his chest rising and falling rapidly as his fingers tangled more fiercely in Sirius' shirt. His breath was coming out in stutters.

"Damn it," Sirius breathed, the words torn and ragged as he quickly shifted and turned his godson to face him. Snape was scrambling toward them, his wand extended in a shaking fist.

"Harry." Sirius gripped his godson's arms and drew him upward. "_Harry_. Stay with me. Focus, all right? Don't close your eyes. Don't—"

But it was too damn late. The streams were there, Harry's mind was already turning into them. Even as he nodded along to Sirius' words, his eyes became unfocused and he was being swept away.

Snape swore violently and chanted the spell, pulling Sirius along with him so that they were both inside the tumultuous waves as they churned and spat. Roiled and struck at Harry, knocking him off his feet.

Angry waves swelled and crashed over him. He sputtered and rolled with them, under and over at their bidding.

Sirius was shouting words that made no sense, pleas that no one heard. The waves wouldn't be stilled, no matter how hard Sirius swam, no matter that Snape and Harry tried to combat them. Harry had his eyes closed, his body shaking and convulsing. He gasped as he took in water and then spat it back out again.

"Concentrate," Snape was shouting, but it didn't help. Snape was mired in the streams, in the waves and the darkness. He couldn't move toward Harry and Harry was being tossed and bruised at the whim of the water.

No matter how Sirius pushed against them, they wouldn't budge. When he stilled, they were filled with more violence. Harry was calling out to him, his eyes wild as he was overrun. "Sirius!"

Sirius stretched his arm out, his fingers as far as they would go. Vast ocean stretched between them and Sirius screamed his godson's name. In a tempest and fury.

It was over. It was fucking over and Sirius would not let this happen.

Snape was drifting beside Sirius, trying just as hard to reach Harry.

Clawing at the black waters, Sirius fought. Fought until he touched Snape's sleeve. With one last look at his drowning godson, Sirius wrapped his fingers around Snape's wrist and yanked.

With a cry and a hiss, as wet as a soaking rain, Sirius and Snape were in Grimmauld Place again. In the parlour on their knees. Out of the corner of his eye, Sirius saw Harry half-aware and struggling on the floor.

"What the hell?" Snape was croaking as he tried to stand. "Black, for God's sake—"

Sirius lunged at him, lunged for his throat and shoved. Snape fell back, the air knocked out of him. Sirius took a deep, wheezing breath as he squeezed Snape's throat and dug a knee into his diaphragm.

Snape's eyes were wild as he struggled.

Sirius embraced the explosion of guilt in his stomach and raised his wand high above his head. His wand whistled as it sliced the air and then in one swift stroke, Sirius plunged it into Snape's heart.

_TBC…_


	11. From Our Slumber

A/N: The chapter previous was uploaded only a few hours before this one, so make sure you read chapter 10 first. Enjoy!_  
_

~HP~

**_Part II: Alone, We Live_**

**Through our slumber sweet and deep,  
Stole the growing light of dawn;  
Heart and brain its warmth did steep,  
Out of death our souls were drawn.  
So we breathed, awoke, arose,-  
Far beneath that dread cyclone,  
All around us rocked the sea,  
Crept the sea, sank the sea,  
Slept the silent sea.**

**(_Shipwrecked_ by Amanda Theodocia Jones)**

**~HP~**

**Chapter 11: From Our Slumber**

As water crept into his lungs, Harry closed his eyes. Sirius was gone. He was alone and he couldn't fight.

His limbs felt light and free as he gave up his struggles and allowed the currents their sway. Down and along they swept him. Free, he felt free.

But just as swiftly as acceptance came, revolt came with it. The water rose up swiftly, assertively and pushed him upward. He came out of the water sputtering and with his throat raw and broken.

Upward and farther he was pushed. Away from the ocean and its swells. The streams were drawing away from him, screaming in his ears and turning his limbs to ice.

Swirling and faster the currents ran, but they didn't pull Harry along this time. He watched them, coughing and drawing in breaths, his hands fumbling as he tried to clear the water from his eyes and his hair as it dripped over his forehead and ran down his nose.

Droplets skipped off his chin as Harry watched the great ocean drain away. The voices were fading, echoing into whispers. And then Harry was gasping and clawing at his shirt. Grimmauld Place swam into being; the ceiling, the familiar chairs and the rug in front of his eyes.

Coughs tore viciously from his chest and he scraped his fingernails against the floor as he tried to push himself up. What the hell happened?

"Sirius…"

Harry stopped cold, his heart frozen in his chest.

Sirius was kneeling over Snape's body. Snape's _still_ body, with Sirius' wand buried deep in Snape's chest.

Snape's shirt was soaked with blood.

"Sirius?" Harry croaked, slipping and sliding as he stood. But Sirius didn't look at him, made no move at all that he heard. Harry stumbled toward his godfather but before he could reach him, magic crackled across his chest and he was thrown back. He stepped forward again, but the same shield stopped him. It was Sirius' magic, Harry could tell that now. Could feel the raw power.

"Sirius!" His voice was hoarse; it hurt to cry out. Sirius didn't answer him. He was muttering words. Latin words. His knuckles were white where they were gripping his wand where it stuck out of Snape's chest.

Harry watched with his heart pounding, his mouth dry and his lips cracked. _What the hell? What the hell? _They were the only words that would come.

Sirius' voice grew louder and darker, coarse against the chilled air. Long strings of words that Harry couldn't understand. And as he watched, Snape's body began to glow, the green of the killing curse at the edges, and then a dull mauve glow joined it. Sirius' voice was a whisper now, a despairing moan. Goose pimples rose along Harry's arms.

The magic crackled and sung through the air. "_Vita Anime_," Sirius was whispering and there were other words in there as well. _Please, dear God. Merlin, sweet Merlin. Snape, for God's sake, come back. _

Again and again the Latin spilled from Sirius' lips and then while Harry forgot to breathe, Sirius gripped the wand in both hands and pulled it with a sickening slurp from Snape's chest.

The green faded away. The glowing mauve glow crowded from Snape's limbs, as if sucked up by the space now emptied and poured into his heart.

Snape's eyes popped open. The sound of air being dragged into his lungs filled the room.

And then, without warning, the magic exploded around them. Sirius cried out and as if an invisible fist had caught him, he was lifted off his knees and thrown backward through the air.

"Sirius!"

His godfather hit the wall with a crack. Harry scrambled up, nearly tripped himself twice. "Sirius?"

Sirius' blinked at him dazedly. As if he was walking through a dream, he reached out and pressed his fingertips to Harry's shoulder, and then curled them round, pressing to see if he was real, Harry thought.

"Harry," he said quietly. A shaky breath. "You all right?"

Harry nodded. "Sirius…"

"I'm fine," Sirius whispered; winced as he shifted. "Snape?" The word was a croak. Harry half-turned to look at his professor. Snape was still lying on the floor, but his hands were moving over the dark patch of blood.

Sirius could see it for himself. He took another slow breath, closed his eyes and fisted Harry's jumper. "Streams?" he whispered.

Harry swallowed, but he could only shake his head. He had no idea what was going on. Snape had been dead. Stabbed through the chest. With Sirius' wand.

"Sirius…"

"They're gone?" Sirius demanded shakily. "Tell me they're gone."

"Yeah—"

Sirius' jaw trembled. He pulled Harry closer. His other arm came up to sling around his back until Harry's face was pushed into his godfather's chest. "Thank God. Harry… thank _God_."

Harry didn't know what to say. Had no idea what to ask. "I'll explain," Sirius mumbled into his hair. "Call for Pomfrey through the Floo. I'll explain."

His grip eased so that Harry could pull back, but he didn't get up. He stared at his godfather instead, and then moved his eyes to Snape. Snape was sitting up now, his black eyes empty, his face hollow. He was looking straight at them, and Harry shivered. It was as if he was seeing right through them.

"Pomfrey," Sirius said again. "Please, Harry."

Harry swallowed and pushed himself up. Snape was blinking slowly. Sirius was sliding up with the wall's help, though he stayed on the floor as well, his arm cradled against his ribs. Harry picked up his pace.

Pomfrey came into view immediately when he stuck his head through the flames. "Harry? Are you all right?"

"Yeah," he croaked. "Sirius asked me to fetch you—"

"What happened?" she asked sharply, even as she swept her bag from one of the beds.

"Dunno," he said quickly. "Sirius was chanting a spell and Snape was bleeding, but I think—"

Pomfrey gestured him aside. Her face was pinched. She swept ahead of Harry once she'd cleared the hearth and Harry had to hurry after her.

Sirius gestured to Snape when she entered the room. "He was dead," he croaked as she knelt down beside him. "I brought him back with one of my father's spells."

She looked at him sharply. Snape's eyes were beginning to clear. "You killed me," he said unsteadily.

Sirius swallowed, but didn't deny it. Harry stared at his godfather, switched his gaze between him and Snape. Sirius took his hand when his knees began to feel a bit wobbly and Harry sat heavily on the floor. Sirius squeezed his fingers and didn't let go.

"Have you any idea of how dark this magic is?" Pomfrey eventually demanded. "To bring a person back from the dead. Have you any idea what it might do to you?"

"Didn't have a choice," Sirius told her, though Harry could hear the waver in his voice.

"The streams," Harry said quietly, half a question in the words.

Sirius' breath hitched. "You would have died."

"You killed me," Snape said again, and Harry and Sirius both turned to look at him. There was no anger in Snape's tone. He sounded very suspiciously like he approved.

"I'm sorry," Sirius began but Snape cut him off with a sharp gesture.

"Don't be any more of an idiot than you already are." The words were too faint to be caustic. "I told you to kill me weeks ago." He closed his eyes and slumped a little. Pomfrey made an impatient noise.

"This is ridiculous," she said firmly. "Sirius, the risks—"

"I know," he said quietly.

"It might not have worked!" she scolded him.

"Enough," Snape said, as if all the strength had been drained from him. "Are the streams gone?" he asked, turning his head toward Harry. Harry sucked in a breath through his nose and turned his concentration inward. Not a whisper greeted him, not a hint at all that reality had ever been disturbed.

"Yes," he answered softly.

"I was meant to die," Snape muttered. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. A small smile pushed at his lips.

"You are both intolerable," Pomfrey said thinly. "Don't move," she ordered Snape and then came briskly to crouch in front of Sirius. "You've cracked a rib," she told him after a diagnostic. "I should leave you to suffer."

Harry opened his mouth to object, but she was already digging through her bag for supplies. "Don't be absurd, Mr. Potter." And then she muttered dismal words about all three of them as she worked. Her complaints abruptly stopped during her second diagnostic. She pulled her wand back and stared at Sirius.

Her mouth moved a few times, but no sound emerged. And then finally, "Sirius…"

"I know," he said softly. He tried to smile but it looked awful. Pomfrey sucked in a quiet breath and covered her mouth with her fingers. Harry's insides turned.

"What?" he demanded. "What's wrong?"

"It's quite all right," Sirius told him; squeezed his hand. "Nothing else is broken."

"What then?" Harry asked shakily. Something was off in Sirius' voice.

Sirius swallowed. "My… magic," he explained quietly. Harry could feel his brows crumpling. Sirius tried to smile again. "Using dark magic is always a risk."

"Your core was weakened?" Harry asked.

"Cast a spell," Pomfrey said before Sirius could answer. "A simple Lumos."

Sirius pursed his lips. She gathered his wand from where it had fallen and handed it to him. "_Lumos_," Sirius ordered, but the wand didn't light up. Silently, Pomfrey handed over her wand. And then asked Harry for his.

Nothing.

Feeling numb, Harry watched his godfather try it for a second time. Sirius's Adam's apple bobbed as Pomfrey took the wand back.

"It was a foolish thing to do," she said in a hard tone.

"No, it wasn't," Sirius said, anger suddenly fast in his voice and in his face as he straightened against the wall. "Harry was dying," he said, holding her gaze. "I would do it again."

Harry felt the tears welling up in his throat. The anger and helplessness. The guilt that he had put all of this in motion. Sirius made a small sound, unrecognizable but familiar.

"I'm sorry," Harry breathed. This was worse than everything else. Worse than the streams, worse than the weakness and even worse than the certainty that he'd been drowning. "I'm sorry."

He couldn't see for the tears now, but he didn't resist as he felt Sirius pulling him in, his arms fast around him. "This is not your fault," Sirius said as he squeezed him tightly. "And this, my magic, doesn't matter. You're safe, and that is all I care about."

Harry shook his head, which was difficult as he was trapped against his godfather's shoulder. Sirius' magic was gone. He couldn't even do a first year spell. "I'm sorry," he said again, because what else could he say?

Sirius' hand was running through his hair, over and over. "I'm not."

_TBC…_

_A/N: Two more chapters. Thanks for reading. _


	12. We Breathed, Awoke

**Chapter 12: We Breathed, Awoke**

"Gone?" Snape demanded. He was trying to stand. "One diagnostic doesn't—"

"Severus, sit down," Pomfrey insisted. She moved swiftly toward him and tried to put a hand on his shoulder but he waved her away.

"I am not hurt," he snapped. "The spell was precise."

"Severus, you were dead—"

"And now I am alive," he spat. "Help me up or move aside."

Pomfrey's sigh was deep, but she obliged with a hand on Snape's elbow and an arm round his back.

Harry watched him limping toward them. Sirius squeezed his shoulder and he glanced up at his godfather. Sirius smiled at him. "I'm fine," he reassured and Harry realised he was grimacing.

"Fine?" Snape echoed. "Don't be ridiculous," he grunted as he dropped down in front of them. "Describe your core," he ordered. He had pulled out his wand and it was obviously an effort for him to chant a diagnostic.

"Severus," Pomfrey said with exasperation, "I know my business."

"I would be certain before—"

Pomfrey cut him off, "You were dead. Sirius' magic was used to revive you, Severus, you know that very well—"

"Have you ever seen the results of this specific ritual?" Snape demanded.

"You were dead." Pomfrey threw up her hands. "Sirius brought you back from death. How else is that accomplished but through sacrificing his magic?"

"We cannot know for certain that is irretrievable," Snape insisted.

"Snape," Sirius tried to interrupt but was ignored.

"There are several methods we might try. The library will be of some assistance—"

"Severus," Sirius said softly and this time, Snape's lips snapped together. Sirius half-smiled at his pinched look and closed his eyes. "It's all right," he murmured. "I expected it." His arm tightened around Harry's shoulder. "You need to sleep," he said under his breath.

"Yes," Pomfrey agreed. "All three of you must sleep. And not a simple nap," she admonished. "I have no idea what this might mean for your health, Sirius…"

"It's fine," he mumbled through a yawn. "Up with you, Harry…" He shifted a little as though to push himself up. Pomfrey moved to help but Sirius' eyes were already drifting closed, too heavy to last.

Pomfrey smiled sadly at him, and then aimed the expression at Harry. She patted his shoulder gently. "He can sleep here for now," she whispered.

Harry swallowed. "Is he…?"

"He is exhausted," she assured him softly. "I suspect you are as well."

Harry brushed that away. He felt nothing, really. Just a heavy weight in his chest.

"We'll take care of him," Pomfrey promised.

"But… he can't… if he doesn't…" Harry swallowed and shook his head. "He shouldn't…"

"He knew very well what he was doing," Pomfrey said in the same quiet voice. "And if he thought you were dying—"

"He was," Snape interjected tiredly. "He most certainly was."

Pomfrey sighed and patted Harry's arm again. "It was a great sacrifice, Mr. Potter, but I am certain it was worth the loss to him."

Harry's jaw hurt with the effort it took to keep the tears at bay. Pomfrey took his arm, but Harry shook his head again. "May I…?"

"Stay with him," she finished with a sigh. "Of course you may, Mr. Potter." She eyed Snape. "And you, Severus? I suppose you wish to remain as well?"

Snape didn't answer her. His black eyes were hooded where they watched Sirius.

oOoOo

When Harry woke next, he was lying on the sofa and Sirius on a cot next to him that someone had either conjured or carried down. Snape was sitting in one of the chairs, being examined by a healer in St. Mungo's robes.

"You executed the spells perfectly," the wizard was saying to Sirius. "It is a shame though…"

"You cannot know for certain," Snape told him tersely.

Sirius interrupted the healer's reply when he caught Harry's movement on the sofa and turned his head. He smiled softly. "Hey there. How do you feel?" The others, which included Pomfrey, turned to him as well.

"Fine," Harry said quickly. He pushed aside the quilt over his legs and sat up. "Are you… Is it…?" And once more he couldn't complete the thought.

Sirius winced as he tried to shift from where he was lying on the cot. Harry slid forward and took his hand. Sirius sandwiched it between his own as if Harry was very, very fragile. "Harry," he said gently, "I don't expect my magic to come back. It isn't like someone exhausting their magic. But I _am_ fit. Perfectly so and there isn't anything to worry about on that score."

The dread resurged immediately, the clutch at his belly. Harry twisted his lips and forced the feeling down again. But all he could manage was a croaked, "But…"

"If I might?" the unknown healer interjected.

"This is Healer Smythewicke," Pomfrey explained.

"From St. Mungo's," the white haired wizard added. "How do you feel, Harry?"

"Fine," Harry answered impatiently.

Smiling a little, the healer nodded. "I understand that this is confusing to you," he said. "If I may explain?"

Harry glanced at his godfather, got an encouraging smile in response so he nodded.

"Essentially, Sirius' magic bled out of him during the ritual he performed on Professor Snape. It was used to bring the Professor back to life, do you see?"

Harry nodded, but really he didn't see at all.

"The magic became a part of the ritual," Smythewicke went on in a far gentler voice. "Seeped through Professor Snape, and beyond what normally shields us from death, to draw him back amongst the living. Some of Sirius' magic is part of the Professor now. The rest of it is lost to whatever lies beyond."

Harry stared at the old man.

"I'm not a Muggle," Sirius said quietly. "Or a squib."

"Indeed," Smythewicke agreed. "He is still a wizard. There are traces of magic left in his core, and throughout his body. He would, for instance, still be able to access Diagon Alley and travel by Floo. He may even, one day, be able to do very basic spells again, though that is by no means a certainty."

"But if it was lost," Harry said shakily, "couldn't it come back? Couldn't we find it?"

"I'm afraid not," Smythewicke said. He sounded so certain of it that the dread settled more firmly.

Harry sat up straighter. "But he could build it back up."

"No," the healer said ever more gently. "You are associating this with cases of exhausted magic. Where the magic is dormant within a wizard's core. It simply not there any longer. And there is no way to make it return."

Sirius' grip grew sharper but when Harry dared a glance at him, his godfather let his breath out and swallowed. "There is a course of therapy," he told Harry and there was only a slight tremor in his voice. "To teach me to utilize the small bit left if I like. It'll be a bit like being a firstie again, eh?"

Harry couldn't smile back. A firstie? Or like Hagrid, with the magic there but unable to use it. Not even like that. Not even as much magic as Hagrid had. His godfather reduced to doing first-year spells when he had been so powerful.

"What about Padfoot?" he whispered.

Sirius only shook his head.

Harry struggled to keep the tears down again. It hardly helped, but he ventured, "After awhile though?"

"No," Smythewicke repeated. "It is important that Sirius not have false hope. Or you either."

"But that can't just be it," Harry protested. "There must be someone else who knows about this sort of thing. You can't know it's just gone! You're only one person." He turned to Sirius. "We'll ask someone else and Snape said we could try the library—"

Sirius squeezed his neck and Harry stopped ranting. "It's all right," Sirius said quietly. "I promise it is."

"How can it be?" Harry asked hoarsely.

"Because I knew what I was doing," Sirius told him. "And this is what I chose."

Harry couldn't reply. He heard Sirius ask the others for a moment, but didn't watch them go. He lowered his head.

"Hey," Sirius finally said when the others' footsteps faded away. "Look at me." He nudged Harry's neck when Harry didn't obey. Gritting his teeth, Harry finally brought his eyes up.

"This was my choice, Harry," Sirius said in tone that was suddenly unyielding. "I knew it could happen, I knew it probably _would_ happen. I chose it anyway. And I don't, not for one moment, regret it. I need you to try to understand that."

Harry didn't answer. His throat was throbbing and there were hot tears gathering again in his eyes. He wanted to apologize anyway. He swallowed in jerks several times.

Sirius sighed and palmed the back of his head. "You're more important than magic."

Harry pressed his teeth together to stifle the sob as it tried to escape. He hunched over and dug his forehead into the cot. Sirius' fingers weaved through his hair, tightened as Sirius mumbled something against the crown of his head.

"I will work hard," Sirius promised more coherently. "I promise I will. Maybe some of it will come back," he said in a voice that was cutting in and out. "I'll be fine, Harry, I promise I will."

Harry shook his head. "But you can't…"

"Can't what?" Sirius echoed, ruffling his hair and sounding exasperated. "Light the stove? They make matches for that. I'll learn to build a fire if I have to. And I'll still be able to see Hogwarts and Diagon Alley. I can still take you shopping for your supplies. We can go flying, Harry, it'll be all right. It isn't so very horrible."

Harry's head jerked up. "It is!" he retorted. "It _is_ horrible. You can't even be Padfoot anymore!"

Sirius laughed, a deep chuckle that startled Harry enough that he closed his mouth. "Harry," he said, obviously forcibly stilling his mirth. "With a choice between Padfoot and you… It isn't a choice at all."

"But—"

"No," Sirius said firmly. He was quiet for a moment while Harry shut up. "You need to accept that you are more important than anything else."

"I know," Harry said quietly. He did know that. How could he not after everything they'd been through? That wasn't the issue, not really. "Sirius…" He wanted to apologize again but the words were stuck in his throat.

Sirius' fingers pressed into his shoulder. "It isn't your fault. How could it possibly be? I performed the ritual, not you."

"But you wouldn't have if I hadn't insisted that Snape couldn't die."

Sirius let out a tiny huff of amusement. "I didn't want him to die either. I'm hardly as unfeeling as that. You cannot take the blame for this, Harry."

"I refused to listen to you," Harry said miserably.

Sirius sighed. "Even if you had left the streams alone like I asked you to do, they wouldn't have left _you_ alone. You didn't invite them to drown you."

But Harry couldn't let that stand. "But everything else," he insisted without knowing why. "The realities were only split because of me, because I didn't use the stupid mirror, and I just kept fiddling with the streams." He flipped his hands in agitation. "And just everything."

"I already told you that you couldn't have known what would happen," Sirius reminded him. "We've settled that. But," he added with a small smile, "thank you for reminding me that I am meant to be heaping punishments on you for ignoring me."

"Er…"

Sirius' eyes were amused. "My mother used to make me stand in a corner." He grimaced as he shifted against his pillow. "Hated that."

Pomfrey returned from the kitchen with an entire tray of potions which she set about arranging near the fireplace.

"Erm…" Harry darted a glance at Pomfrey but she was paying them no mind. "… you're not really going to make me stand in a corner, are you?"

Sirius chuckled. "No, Harry James. We've both been through quite enough. And I think we both know I would be pants at disciplining you though. So, just don't do anything that might make me in future, hm?"

Harry tried to smile. "OK."

Sirius grimaced again as Pomfrey clacked back over to them. "How do you feel?" she asked him. "No," she admonished. "Don't try to sit up."

"Why?" Harry asked sharply.

"His body is trying to adjust to its new state," she explained patiently. "Bereft of its magic, his body is confused and exhausted. Not to mention he is more susceptible to illness at the moment. The potions and elixirs are not working as well as they ought."

"We must adjust them," Snape muttered as he shuffled back in. He looked terrible, exactly like someone who had been killed and brought back to life. Sirius said as much and Snape gave him a pinched frown. "I am well enough to work on your potions."

"You can take a few days off," Sirius said.

The curl of Snape's lips told them what he thought of the suggestion. "I will need several samples of your blood," he said.

"Your charming personality is still intact, I see."

Snape grunted something unintelligible and went to his potions.

"Do sit down, at least," Pomfrey admonished him, which he ignored. Pomfrey sighed as she came over. Without being told, Sirius extended his arm so that she could extract several vials of blood.

"How do you feel? Truthfully?" Sirius asked Harry over her ministrations. "You look better. You slept well."

Harry shrugged.

"I expect it will take some adjustment," Pomfrey said. "To have your mind to yourself again."

Surprised, he squinted at her. He hadn't spared a thought to the streams. He was glad they were gone though. "It's quiet," he said in explanation; Sirius was studying him. "I'm glad they're gone."

Sirius relaxed a fraction. "It hasn't affected him negatively?" he asked Pomfrey as she capped her vials.

"He is quite healthy," she told him. "He could do with a few extra meals and several nights' rest, but there is no reason for concern." She smiled at both of them. "No need to look so morose, Mr. Potter. Your godfather will be well soon enough. He has always been an exceptional wizard, and even with his magic essentially drained, he will surprise us all, I have no doubt."

She patted Sirius' arm and moved away.

Sirius' wry smile lifted into something warmer when he caught Harry's gaze. "It won't matter, Harry, you'll see. Nothing's changed. We'll find a house as soon as Pomfrey lets me leave."

"But—" Harry shook his head and pursed his lips.

"But what?"

"You'll have to live in a Muggle house, won't you? And how will you…" _Do anything?_

"Houses can be charmed to respond to voice commands," Snape said as he stepped over with a vial of something black and viscous. "Wizards often use the technique when they marry Muggles. I know the necessary charms. Drink this," he ordered.

Sirius did.

"Sirius, perhaps you should think about staying here," Pomfrey put in. "It might be easier."

"Not a chance," Sirius said; he made a face at the potion's taste. "I was rather hoping Snape would agree to take over the deed." He smiled at Snape's slack-lipped surprise. "It's the least you can do," he pointed out, "seeing as I brought you back to life and all. Harry and I are leaving, either way."

Snape was staring at him, looking more flummoxed than Harry had ever seen; not that Harry had really ever seen his old professor looking that way.

"Your own house won't be returned to you," Sirius reminded him when nothing was forthcoming. "I'll do my best to clear your name, but for the moment, you won't be able to return to Hogwarts. Here you can make your potions, make a business for yourself if you want that."

Snape finally stirred. "So, it's to be pity, then?"

"Gratitude," Sirius retorted. "And I just don't want the bloody place. I'll be quite pleased never to see it again."

"Your castoffs," Snape scoffed.

"If you'll take them."

Snape curled his lip. He swept his robes out of the way as he turned and stalked away. He hadn't refused though.

oOoOo

_Water swirled around him, faster and faster, and Sirius couldn't move. Couldn't reach out to Harry as his godson was dragged deeper and deeper under the dark currents. _

Sirius woke up gasping his godson's name. With uncoordinated movements, he tried to disengage his legs from the sheets as he fumbled blindly for his wand. He snatched it between his fingers, still fighting with the sheets before he realised that he was in his bedroom at Grimmauld Place. And that his wand was absolutely useless to him now.

Phantom terror was still pushing at his chest so he drew in shallower breaths, trying to force his heart to still. It did nothing for the chill settling in his stomach, churning it into shreds. Without magic, he wouldn't have been able to save Harry.

With a final twist, he pulled the sheet from his legs and threw them aside. Knowing it was stupid and unable to stop all the same, Sirius clenched his wand in his fist and went the short distance to Harry's room, stumbling twice in the darkness without even the dull light from his wand tip. Even simple things he would no longer be able to count on.

His heart stopped hammering so insistently when he found his godson safe in his bed, sound asleep. With a careful movement, he brought the quilt back to his shoulder and ghosted a hand over his forehead. At least he could make out Harry's face at this close distance. And his eyes were beginning to adjust to the low sconces in the corridor.

Stepping back carefully, he glanced around, but couldn't see the clock in the darkness. He swore softly and retraced his steps back to his room. Fumbling stupidly, he dug through the drawer beside his bed and came up with a short candle.

He drew a slow breath and forced himself to put his wand back on the table. The shape of the wood burned its echoes into his palm. He flexed his fingers and went out to the corridor again where he lit the candle from the sconce's flame and then made his slow way down the stairs.

Two days had returned some energy back to his muscles. He was sleeping more, certainly and a dull ache still radiated through his body. Missing its magic, Pomfrey had explained to him. Somewhat fancifully, Sirius thought. Not that he didn't know very well that magic had a personality of its own, almost as if was sentient. At least Sirius' had been that way.

He hadn't expected to miss it this much.

He blew out his candle when he made it to the kitchen. Sighing, he sat heavily in one of the chairs and ran his fingertips along the wood, catching the curling smoke from the candle with his thumb. Shadows from the sconces danced with the muted light from the dawn.

He rolled the candle lightly between his hands, closed his eyes and breathed deeply. But no matter how hard he tried to give it life, there was only a dull flicker of magic from his core. Not even a flicker. Just a steady hum out of reach.

He was oddly grateful for the loss, even if had left a hollow ache in his chest. The streams were gone, reality put back to rights. Harry was safe at last, free from Voldemort and in Sirius' rightful care. It had been worth the loss of his magic. More than worth it.

The Floo flared in the early morning light, casting a green glow over the darkened kitchen. Remus stepped through and shook the soot off his robes before he noticed Sirius. "Oh," he whispered. "I didn't think you'd be awake."

Sirius smiled at him. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Breakfast," Remus told him with an answering smile. "Tonks made it. She thought…" The grin faltered. He gestured vaguely. "Three men, you know." Clearly not what he'd meant to say.

"And me without my magic," Sirius filled in for him, still smiling. "Don't look like that, Moony. I'm all right."

Remus cleared his throat and nodded too sharply.

"Where is this food, then?" Sirius asked, tilting his head. "It's not like you to be this forgetful."

Remus chuckled. He waved his wand and several pots appeared on the table. But as soon as they did, Remus glanced at Sirius, apology in his eyes and he quickly put his wand away.

"Remus," Sirius said softly, "you needn't apologize for using magic. Please don't, in fact."

Remus sighed as he sat across from Sirius. "There isn't any change, then?" he asked.

"There won't be," Sirius told him impatiently. He'd already explained this more than once. Remus grimaced.

"I know… sorry."

Sirius waved that away. "It's not your fault I'm a bear."

"I think you've a right to be." Remus leaned forward. "You don't have to pretend this hasn't upset you, Sirius. It's a terrible loss. And yes, of course I know you would do it again. I know very well that you would do anything for Harry, but you don't need to pretend you're fine. Not with me."

Sirius turned to stare at a spot over Remus' shoulder. "I knew I would probably lose my magic."

"And you chose it anyway," Remus finished for him softly. "Because you love Harry."

Sirius nodded, swallowing twice before he could speak. "I do, Moony. I didn't think… I didn't know it was possible to love someone that much." He slid his eyes back to Remus and smiled. "I suppose you'll know what I mean when Tonks has the baby."

Remus smiled.

"I would do it again," Sirius said.

"I know."

Sirius let his face rest in his hands. His words were probably muffled but he said them anyway, "Even knowing how much I miss my magic, I would do it again."

Remus' hand squeezed his shoulder. He must have moved around the table. "Of course you would, Padfoot," he said softly. His voice fell like a blanket over Sirius' ears. "Doesn't mean you're not allowed to grieve."

Sirius took a shaky breath. "What if I can't protect him now?"

"You have all of us to help you sort this out," Remus promised. "I've never seen Snape so eager to do anything."

Sirius snorted. His voice still came out roughly when he said, "Someone else will have to help Harry with his magic if he needs it. He won't even have someone to look up to—"

"Don't be silly," Remus chided. "You can teach him how to cast spells without being able to do it yourself—"

A soft noise from the door halted the words. Both he and Sirius looked up to find Harry trying to slip away unnoticed. Ignoring the twist of embarrassment in his gut, Sirius called out softly, "Hey."

Harry halted with only his elbow and one foot visible.

Smiling a little, Sirius said, "Come in here."

Harry took a backwards step into view. His cheeks were flushed a dark red and he was twisting his fingers nervously. His eyelashes were wet. "Sorry," he breathed. "I didn't mean to listen…"

"Never mind that," Sirius murmured. "Come here."

Remus smiled at Harry as he passed him on his way out of the kitchen. Harry didn't come all the way to the table, instead standing near the door as if he were on an island.

"Oy, I'm not angry," Sirius told him. But Harry shook his head.

"That's daft," he said.

Sirius' brow crumpled as he tried to sort that. "What is?" he finally asked.

Harry's gesturing was agitated. "What you said."

"Which part?" Sirius asked. "I have no idea when you started listening."

Harry flushed again. "At the start," he admitted gruffly. "It's not your fault you're magic's gone. And you're brilliant. Why would I not think so now?"

Some of the tension loosed from the stranglehold it had on Sirius' chest when he realized what Harry meant. "Well, thank you," he said quietly. He rubbed his thumbs together, stopped abruptly when he realized he usually did that with a wand in between. He patted the seat next to him in invitation and Harry finally joined him; his eyes were still red.

Sirius combed back the sleepy hair and said, "I didn't mean for you to hear all of that. Although if you heard how much I love you, I'm glad for it."

Harry nodded as he kept his fingers tangled together as he lifted and lowered them from the table's surface. "You miss your magic."

Sirius smoothed a thumb over the strands. "Yes."

Harry stared resolutely at his hands. "What will you miss the most?"

More of the tension slipped away. "Apparating. I suspect the little bit of magic left won't ever be able to accomplish that. The ability to Apparate always made me feel a bit freer. Especially after Azkaban."

Harry nodded. His throat was jerking.

"I have other freedoms though," Sirius assured him. "More than I ever thought I'd have. And I certainly wouldn't trade Apparition for you."

"What else will you miss?"

"I don't know… Silly things," Sirius told him quietly. "Flying, if we can't make that work. And bigger things, like making certain you're safe. I think I'll be uneasy now, knowing I can't protect you like I could before."

"Voldemort is dead."

"And thank God for that." Sirius brought his the top of his godson's head to rest on his chest. "I'd rather miss my magic. I'm glad to miss my magic since it means you're safe, do you understand?"

Harry nodded. "Good," Sirius sighed. They were quiet then, while the tick of the ancient clock filled the cool air.


	13. And Now Sleeps the Silent Sea

**Chapter 13: And Now Sleeps the Silent Sea**

Harry couldn't stop grinning as he turned in yet another circle to admire his new room.

"I thought you might like it."

Harry grinned at his godfather, who was watching him from beside the large window. "It's massive."

"And why not?" Sirius asked, smiling. "It won't seem as big once we get the bed in here. And your desk and other furniture."

Harry shook his head. "It will still be huge."

"Too big?" Sirius asked, a hint of concern in his expression now.

"No," Harry said quickly. "I love it. I mean, if it's all right with you."

"More than," Sirius assured him, relaxed once more. He leant against the wide window seat and twisted a bit. "Come look at the view."

Harry crowded close to the pane, eyes sweeping over the green hills. He could see the castle in the distance. "It's brilliant, Sirius."

Sirius kneaded his shoulder lightly. "Shall we take it, then?"

"You like it, yeah?" Harry asked, turning to his godfather. "And you think it'll be all right? With the charms—"

"Yes," Sirius assured him quietly. "The house isn't terribly large, really, so it shouldn't be difficult to put everything in place."

"And you're all right with Dobby—"

"Oy," Sirius silenced him with an elbow hooking his neck. "Stop fretting, please. One thing at a time, eh? I like the house. Do you?"

"Yes," Harry answered swiftly, though it was an effort not to continue the barrage of questions.

"Do you want to live here?"

"Yes."

Sirius grinned. "Good. Then let's go downstairs and put Aeron out of his misery. He's so nervous he can barely hold his quill, you know."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, he's a git. And if he says again what an honor it is to show the house to Harry Potter I might hex him… er… well, you know…"

Sirius jostled him gently. "What have we talked about?"

Harry coloured a bit. "I know, sorry. Fine, I'll hex him."

"Well, you won't," Sirius chuckled, "but do please feel free to mention all the magic you like."

Harry smiled at his godfather, trying not to show any worry about Sirius' magic. Or pity, since Sirius very much did not appreciate it.

"It'll be really expensive," he said as they descended the stairs. "And with all the furniture—"

"Another topic we've discussed ad nauseum, Harry James."

Harry couldn't help the sheepish smile. "Right. You're the parent, I'm the child and I'm not allowed to worry about money."

He had long since given Sirius his vault key.

Sirius tapped him under the chin. "Yes, even if you are a cheeky thing."

Harry grinned and hopped from the third step and into the sitting room. Aeron looked up in alarm at the loud thump, but then beamed. "Mr. Black, you've made a decision, then? You both look rather pleased with the house?"

"Yes," Sirius said, ruffling Harry's hair on the way past. "We love it."

Aeron clapped his hands together in delight. "Oh, that is stupendous news, you have no idea how pleased I am! To sell a house to Harry Potter and his godfather, well," he said proudly, "it really is a feather in my cap, isn't it? A great feather, indeed."

Sirius nudged Harry with an elbow and he had to bite back a laugh.

"Shall we sign the parchments?" Aeron asked excitedly. "I have them just here in my satchel, of course. I just _knew_ you would love the house. A perfect house for you, Harry, of course it is. Overlooking Hogwarts and enough room to take your broom out. What a delightful day!"

He was bouncing on his toes, and Harry couldn't stop grinning. More so because Sirius was trying very hard not to laugh as well. He nodded solemnly to Aeron, who procured the necessary parchments with a flourish.

"Shall I?" Sirius asked Harry once Aeron had given him a garish green quill. With Harry's eager nod, the parchment was signed and then it disappeared with a loud pop.

"Oh, delightful," Aeron crowed. "Utterly delightful!"

He was still babbling excitedly when he left, promising to visit them once the house was furnished, because how could he possibly not see the house where Harry Potter was going to live?

"He's barmy," Harry said seriously once the door closed behind him.

"Never mind him," Sirius said with a bit of glee as he spun in a circle to imitate the ones Harry had been making all morning. "What do you think? We have a house!" He grabbed Harry's hands and chanted, "A house, a house, a house!"

Laughing, Harry joined his godfather in his mad circling.

oOoOo

"He's a bit enthusiastic," Harry warned his godfather the next day. He yelped in surprise as a crate full of dishes popped into existence on the worktop. Furniture and accessories had been arriving out of thin air all day. "Something's going to land on our heads," he grumbled.

"It won't," Sirius assured him with a chuckle. "The magic's too precise. Open the crate, eh? And don't worry about Dobby; I'm sure we'll get along just fine."

"You will, yeah," Harry agreed as he opened the crate and begin sorting the plates. "He likes anyone who likes me."

"Not difficult to understand," Sirius murmured. "Fetch me the ladder?"

Harry paused in his stacking to bring the short step ladder to his godfather and watched him settling things on the high shelves. He didn't realize he was watching with a worried frown until Sirius said, "I'm doing just fine. Even if it takes a bit longer."

Harry nodded and went back to his plates and began settling them into their cupboards. "Your wand would be faster," Sirius eventually said.

"That's all right," Harry said, shrugging. "I don't mind doing it this way."

"Harry."

He stopped mid-stack and twisted to find his godfather sitting on the worktop. "We've talked about this, Harry," he said quietly, though there was a bit of impatience in his voice. "You can use your wand. I want you to."

"I don't mind—"

"It isn't about your minding, Harry. You don't need to do things the Muggle way simply because I am. I've told you that I don't want pity or sympathy."

"I know," Harry said quickly. "I didn't mean to make you think about—"

"Harry," Sirius sighed. He ran a weary hand down his face and came away grimacing. "I realize my magic isn't the same. It isn't something that pops into my mind now and then. I am always aware that I can't do things the way I used to. You need to stop pretending you don't have a wand."

A bit stung, Harry could only apologise gruffly.

Sirius gestured to Harry's pocket. "Don't apologise, just use your wand, please."

Harry nodded jerkily. He turned back to the plates, pulling out his wand as he did. He directed the stack of plates to the cupboard in one go. He made another stack and directed that one as well. His voice was stupidly hoarse so he cleared it once and then blinked in surprise when Sirius' hand settled on his shoulder.

He squinted up at his godfather.

"I'm sorry," Sirius murmured. "I didn't mean to snap at you." He tried a smile. "You don't have to use your wand if you'd rather not. Of course you don't."

"No, it's all right." Harry shook his head. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"You haven't upset me, love," Sirius said softly; his voice sounded hoarse now. "I worry that I'm stunting you, I think. You should be able to use your magic freely."

Harry shrugged. "I'm not really supposed to use it out of Hogwarts anyway."

"That doesn't apply to wizarding families and their homes…" Which Harry already knew.

"I'm used to doing things without a wand," he tried to explain. "It's not difficult."

"I know," Sirius sighed. "I'd rather not remind you of the Dursleys though."

"You'd have to put my bed under the stairs to do that," Harry muttered.

"Well," Sirius said after a strained pause, "we certainly won't be doing that, will we? It wouldn't quite fit, I think."

Harry smiled a little.

Sirius raked a hand through his hair and tugged Harry in so that he was tucked into his godfather's side. Against the top of his head, Sirius said quietly, "I don't want you to feel as though you need to take care of me. You know I'm a bit stuck on that point."

"I know…"

"I will always _be_ stuck on it." Sirius pressed a rough kiss to his scalp and then jollied him with a smile. "Stubborn, my mother used to say. You know something about that, I think?"

Harry made a face. "I'm never stubborn."

"No, never," Sirius said with mock-sincerity. "I don't know what I was thinking."

"You weren't."

Sirius made to cuff his head, but Harry dodged away with a grin, but then had to spring back when a chair popped into existence nearly on top of him. "Bloody hell!"

Laughing, Sirius grabbed his elbow and pulled him back to the worktop. Three more chairs and a table quickly followed. "I told you it was dangerous," Harry groused as he went back to his crate.

"It's a nice table though," Sirius said thoughtfully. He rapped his knuckles on the wood. Harry was about to retort that it wouldn't be so nice if they were knocked out cold on the floor, but a loud pop interrupted him.

Dobby's ears quivered at them from the middle of the kitchen.

"Dobby is excited to see Harry Potter," he said in his squeaky voice. "Dobby is not late?"

"Hi Dobby," Harry said, immediately forgetting about rogue furniture. He smiled and crouched down to greet his friend. "No, you're not late. How are you?"

"Oh, Harry Potter is a kind wizard to ask after Dobby. Dobby is very well."

"Good, I'm glad. Dobby, this is my godfather, Sirius Black."

Dobby bounced on his toes and quivered more. "Oh, Dobby is pleased to meet Harry Potter's godfather."

Sirius extended his hand to Dobby, which Dobby took with wonderment in his large eyes. "Pleased to meet you, Dobby," Sirius greeted him. "I'm glad you've come." He gestured to the table when Dobby released him. "Would you care for tea? Something to drink?"

"Oh no," Dobby breathed. "Harry Potter's godfather must not serve Dobby. Dobby will make tea—"

"That's all right," Harry said quickly. "We'll do that later, yeah? We want to talk to you first."

Dobby nodded and it was with much nervousness that he finally sat in one of the new chairs after being asked again by Harry.

"Professor McGonagall explained that we'd like you to live here with us?" Harry asked.

"Mistress McGonagall explained that Harry Potter's godfather sacrificed his magic to save Harry Potter," Dobby said reverently. "Harry Potter's godfather is a brave wizard."

Harry glanced at Sirius, whose smile was somewhat strained. Harry turned back to Dobby and asked, "And she told you that we'd like you to work here?"

"Oh yes, Harry Potter," Dobby said excitedly. "Dobby is most honoured to be Harry Potter's elf. Dobby will serve Harry Potter's godfather well."

"We will pay you, of course," Sirius told him. "And we have a room for you upstairs—"

"Oh no, Harry Potter's godfather." Dobby's ears flapped as he shook his head. "Dobby will sleep in the kitchen, in the elf's cupboard. Dobby likes to sleep in the kitchen."

"It's a bit small," Harry said doubtfully.

Dobby's grin was wide. "Dobby is small!"

"Only if you'll allow us to spruce it up for you," Sirius said. "You're not a slave here, Dobby, and we want you to be comfortable."

"Oh, Harry Potter's godfather is most generous. Dobby will be comfortable in Harry Potter's house. Dobby is very happy!" he squeaked.

"Erm… Right," Sirius said with a nod. "I can pay you double whatever you've been given at Hogwarts, then—"

Dobby gasped. "_Two_ galleons a week! No, Harry Potter's godfather, it is too much. Dobby cannot take two galleons! What would Dobby do with so many galleons?"

"Dumbledore was only giving you _one_ galleon a week?" Sirius asked, his eyebrows flying up. "That's… well, that's… not nearly enough, Dobby. Even two a week is ridiculous—"

"Dobby must not take more," Dobby said firmly. "Dobby was proud to work at Hogwarts. Dobby is prouder to be Harry Potter's elf. Dobby does not need so many galleons." He shook his head resolutely.

Harry and Sirius shared a glance, with Harry eventually shrugging.

"All right," Sirius agreed quietly. "But only if you promise to ask for more if you need it. And after six months, we'll reevaluate and decide if it's enough."

"It will be enough, Harry Potter's godfather," Dobby promised fervently.

Sirius smiled at him. "You may call me Sirius."

Dobby beamed at him.

Harry chafed his palms together. "When do you want to start?"

Dobby sat up straighter. "Dobby will start straight away! Dobby must collect his belongings first!" And with that, the elf Disapparated with a pop.

"Enthusiastic is an understatement, I think," Sirius said with a smile. "He adores you."

Harry shrugged self-consciously. "He's just grateful I tricked Mr. Malfoy."

"That was a very good thing you did," Sirius said. Harry smiled. "All right," Sirius declared, pushing himself up and then offering a hand to pull Harry up alongside. "Enough loafing. Back to work or we'll be living out of these crates for weeks."

"Dobby will want to help," Harry said, tossing a grin to his godfather on the way back to his plates.

"Thank Merlin," Sirius muttered. "I'll be glad to have him here." He hopped onto his stepladder and stuck his head into the tall cupboards. Harry watched him for a few moments. He smiled when Sirius began to whistle. With only the slightest hesitation after that, Harry retrieved his wand from the worktop and set to work on the last of the dishes.

oOoOo

"The final charm is in place," Snape said. "We will need to test each one again."

"Thank you. I know it's been a lot of work—" Sirius began, but Snape waved him off.

"We should begin at the front door," he said. Harry and Sirius followed him outside. It had taken nearly a week to arrange the charms so that they would respond to Sirius. And Snape had done all of it without a word of complaint.

When the door was firmly closed behind them, Sirius touched the center of it and it sprang open. Sirius grinned. Harry smiled as well and then did the same thing when Snape directed him to. Nodding in satisfaction, they went through the house systematically. By the time they reached the kitchen, having met no problems, Dobby was just laying the table for dinner.

"I honestly didn't think it would work so well," Sirius said. He was still smiling. "Thank you."

"It was not difficult," Snape dismissed the words again.

"Took a long time though," Sirius pointed out. Snape ignored that.

"You will contact me should there be any problems."

"Yes," Sirius agreed. "Would you care to stay for dinner? Dobby is an excellent cook."

Dobby beamed at them from the stove.

"You should stay," Harry added. It was an inadequate thank you, of course, but then Snape didn't want any gratitude at all. Probably because there really wasn't any way to repay someone for giving you back your life.

"Like old times, eh?" Sirius put in. "The three of us around the table at Grimmauld Place."

Snape's lip twisted slightly but he did agree eventually. Bit difficult to ignore the delicious smells drifting from the pots that Dobby was transferring to the table.

"How are you getting along there?" Sirius asked once they'd been served.

"Must we engage in small talk?"

"No," Sirius chuckled. "Unless you'd like to hear about my sessions with Smythewicke."

That piqued Snape's interest. "Have you had success?" he demanded.

"Very little," Sirius admitted. He paused to smile at Harry and nudge his trainer with the toe of his boot. Harry put away his concerned expression and smiled back at his godfather. "Harry's been coming along with me. Smythewicke keeps telling him he needs an apprentice."

"Hm," Snape grunted. His eyes raked over Harry. "It would probably suit him." It was said like an insult.

Harry rolled his eyes. "It sounds interesting anyway. Better than being an Auror."

"Better from my perspective as well," Sirius agreed.

"Minerva told the staff at Hogwarts that you were quite keen on becoming an Auror," Snape put in.

Harry shrugged. "Only because Umbridge told me I couldn't."

"Ah."

Harry ignored the knowing tone. "Do you ever wonder if we could ask her about the spell she used?" he asked. "Umbridge—the Cruciatus?"

"I'd really rather not see her if I don't have to," Sirius said, shaking his head. "I don't think I'd be able to restrain myself."

"You would not," Snape agreed with half a sneer. "It hardly matters," he said to Harry dismissively. "Since your godfather merged the realities; quite effectively."

"Why, thank you, Snape."

Snape scowled at the grin.

"Well, yeah," Harry interrupted his godfather's smirk, "but it would be interesting, don't you think? We don't really know how the realities split; remember Snape said Umbridge's curse opened up a new avenue of magic? It would be good to know how, don't you think?"

Sirius and Snape had both stopped eating. "_Why_ exactly?" Sirius asked with a frown.

Harry shrugged. "Dunno. Because it's such powerful magic and it might—"

"You are not speaking to Umbridge," Sirius interrupted, half-spluttering. "And we are certainly not going to start researching how to split reality."

"I _know_," Harry stressed. "I didn't mean that. I just meant it could be used for something else, yeah? Something not reality-altering, maybe."

Sirius aimed his fork at Harry's nose. "No," he said firmly. "You are not to do any research on the subject. I mean it."

Harry almost made a face at his godfather, but thought perhaps it wasn't the time. He nodded instead. "I won't," he promised when Sirius narrowed his eyes. "I was only thinking aloud."

Sirius gave him a one-eyed glare before returning to his plate.

"It may very well be of interest," Snape began. Sirius dropped his fork with a clatter.

"Don't you dare," Sirius ordered. "Or so help me I'll hex you—" He scowled. "I'll ask Remus to hex you. He'll do it."

Snape rolled his eyes. "I have no intention of speaking to Umbridge. If only to keep her from getting any ideas."

Sirius grumbled something uncomplimentary, which made Snape smirk before he went back to his dinner.

Biting back laughter, Harry turned away from his godfather's appraisal and ducked his head to his dinner. Just like old times. Except now, there was nothing hanging over their heads. No Voldemort, no shifting realities, no desperation to put everything back to rights.

It was different now, of course. It would never feel quite right, he supposed. Even if Sirius did get used to life without magic. But they were both here. Having dinner with Snape, of all people. An oddly pleasant dinner.

At home.

He grinned stupidly. Sirius was still watching him when he looked up; with a fond smile now.

"We should go for a walk after dinner," Harry said. "You should come," he added with a nod toward Snape.

Snape, predictably, looked appalled. Harry shared a grin with his godfather and turned his attention back to Dobby's roast.


	14. Epilogue

_Notes: This series has a one-shot, taking place after this story, at Christmas. You can find it in my profile: _Thicker than Blood_. __Enjoy._**  
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**Epilogue**

_1 September 1996_

Before Harry even opened the gate, he was already smiling. Sirius was waiting for him on the other side, his hands in his pockets and his face lit with a grin. Sirius stepped forward to greet him and hugged him tightly.

"How was your first day?" he demanded, throwing an arm over Harry's shoulders.

"Brilliant. Ron and Hermione spent the whole day bickering about a plant. Don't even ask," he said cheerfully. "I've no idea. But, oh, you'll never guess!"

"The new potions professor is even meaner than Snape?"

Harry laughed. "No, she's nice. And the Defense teacher isn't even an idiot. No, I've been made Quidditch captain!"

Sirius halted and Harry grinned triumphantly at the absolutely delighted expression on his godfather's face. "Have you really?" Without even waiting for an answer, Sirius jostled him into another large hug, laughing. "When do you choose your team?" He was practically bouncing on his toes.

"Next week. Ginny's going out for Chaser."

"_Is_ she?"

"Yes, and Ron will go out for Keeper again."

"It will be a brilliant team," Sirius said, his eyes still sparkling. "I can't wait to watch the matches this year. As an actual human."

"Will you come for the tryouts?" Harry asked.

"Absolutely. If I won't distract you?"

"Nope. Can you believe I'm going to be captain?"

"Yes," Sirius chuckled. "Quidditch is in your blood. As is the Captaincy."

Harry smiled at that. "Do you think we could practice a bit tonight?" he asked as they passed the main row of shops in Hogsmeade. "I have loads of assignments though. Ron's coming through later to work on our Potions essay."

"We best squeeze Quidditch in as soon as we get home then."

Harry nodded. He hesitated before he asked, "Do you think you'll be all right?"

"I've been on a broom twice now," Sirius reminded him. "Twice without falling on my backside, that is." It used up all of what remained of Sirius' magic, and only with the help of a broom enhanced by Snape's magic. They had found with many hours of trial and error that Sirius responded best to Snape's magic, since what Snape held within his core had once belonged to Sirius—at least some of it.

"Snape knows what he's about," Sirius added, to which Harry nodded.

"It was odd not having him in potions class," he said. "Professor Kent is nicer anyway. She doesn't smile either though."

"Must be a shared trait."

Harry smiled.

"He's happier, don't you think? At Grimmauld Place?"

"I think so, yes," Sirius replied, glancing at him. "If you can apply that word to Snape. He seems to be conducting a fair amount of business with his potions at least."

Sirius and Harry, together, had managed to convince the Wizengamot that Snape didn't deserve Azkaban, though they had banned him from teaching at Hogwarts again and refused to return his property. Snape didn't seem to mind.

"Come on," Sirius broke him from his reverie. "I'll treat you to a hot cocoa first. It's freezing. Where's your scarf?"

Harry pulled it from his pocket and dutifully wound it round his neck when Sirius raised a pointed eyebrow.

"How was your session with Smythewicke?"

"Dreadful," Sirius said with a smile. "That man is worse than Snape, I tell you. Lives to torment me. I did manage just about the weakest Lumos known to wizardkind though."

It was Harry's turn to halt. "You _did_?"

"Mmhm." Sirius chivvied Harry inside Madame Puddifoot's.

"That's brilliant," Harry said with a wide grin.

Sirius smiled at him as he paid for the cocoa and then they were on their way again down the lane, both of them sipping quietly as they walked. The trees were just beginning to change colours.

"Does he think you'll be able to do more spells?" Harry eventually asked.

"Possibly a few. He thinks I can channel it toward flying though, if I like. I'd rather focus on that, I think. A half-hearted levitation spell isn't much use."

"Yeah, I suppose not."

Sirius nudged him. "It was meant to be good news."

Harry smiled. "I know."

"None of that," Sirius chided with a jostle for his shoulder. "Dobby is waiting with a dozen types of biscuits and if you go in with that face he'll think I've been scolding you."

"He knows you're pants at that," Harry scoffed.

"I am, indeed. Dobby is brilliant, you realise. He's been helping me sort out all the books. I had no idea we had so many."

"You like to read."

"So does Dobby. Though he looks as though he's just committed a crime every time he takes one from the shelf."

Harry's cocoa cup disappeared with a slurp as soon as he took the last sip. Sirius' followed suit.

"Now my hands are cold," Sirius sighed. He rubbed them briskly together, and then gave Harry a sidelong glance. "Race you home?"

Harry pretended to consider it. "Loser has to tell Dobby we don't like his rum biscuits."

"He'll cry."

"They're foul," Harry laughed. "Fine, whoever loses has to tell him I'm allergic to that spice he uses. Deal?"

Sirius took his mark.

"Don't cheat," Harry warned.

His godfather tossed him an affronted look. "I do not cheat. And go!"

"Hey!" Harry's protest was half-laughter. "That's cheating, Sirius!"

"That's strategy, kid!"

Grinning, Harry took off after his chortling godfather.

**_The End_**


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